Chapter Text
In hindsight Valentino really shouldn’t be surprised.
After all, even if it is some kind of sick joke, he is a moth. A fabulous moth, but still a moth.
To make things better, one who also happens to be very sensitive to light and surprise, surprise, whose job as well as personal life requires him to be around it all the fucking time .
You’d think the eternally ever shittier eyesight would be punishment enough, but nope. He has to be sensitive to fucking light .
There’s something poetic about it actually. At this point it’s basically common knowledge that Val’s one single fucking weakness is the light, it’s just that nobody dares to try to use it to their advantage, as not only will they have a strong angry monster at their hands, but will also have two of the most powerful overlords to deal with.
Vox on his own is already a nightmare when angry (the sexily possessive bastard) but with Vel by his side? Oh, they’re practically unstoppable.
But here’s the thing, Vox is also light.
So, when you think about it, Val relies on light to save him from light.
Crazy, isn’t it?
Even with the specialized glasses Vox had made to help him get through the day, there’s only so much they can do to prevent Val’s vision from getting worse.
And after all his years of being in hell, all that time being on top, to say he barely noticed his vision getting blurrier and blurrier until all he could see were shapes, shadows, and -of course- light, would be an understatement.
Contrary to what his dear Voxxy may think, of course he fucking noticed .
But Voxxy doesn’t peg him for the intelligent type when it comes to, well, anything outside of porn. Despite how bad it sounds, Valentino actually doesn’t mind. Voxxy takes care of him and all other sorts of boring overlord duties. Val finds it nice to not have to think or worry about anything. Not unlike-
Anyway, he knows he can take care of himself, but Vox taking care of him is honestly so much sexier, hence why he allows it.
Perhaps that is why when a black dot in the corner of his vision appears one day, Val doesn’t say anything. Partially because it doesn’t seem like a big deal. But also… in the small chance that it is, then -unlike most things in Val’s life- that would actually be concerning.
Now don’t get him wrong, he’s known for a while that his sight has slowly been growing shittier. Even if his sense was as bad as Vox seems to think, it’s not that hard to remember his earlier days in Hell when he could actually fucking see letters and prescription glasses actually worked .
But having a full (if small) spot in the corner of his vision… that is new.
For the first time, he’s grateful Vox always insists that he visit the -albeit shitty- doctor every year. Of course he still complains as he leaves, can’t have Voxxy or Vel suspecting anything.
In hindsight, Valentino really shouldn’t be surprised.
“Fucking what now?” he snaps after a moment of silence.
The doctor looks at him, bored.
“You’re going blind,” he repeats slowly, as if talking to a fucking child.
Val should kill him right then and there.
“How long?” he asks, hating how pathetic his intended sharp tone sounds.
“Who knows,” the doctor shrugs, writing something on the clipboard, “could be six months to twenty years, I don’t know.”
Val really wants to kill him.
“Well, is there a way to fix it?” he grits his teeth and clenches his fist.
Dontkillhimdontkillhimdontkillhimdontkil-
“You’re a moth what do you fucking think?” he rips the paper out and hands it to Val.
Dontkillhimdontkillhimdontkillhim.
“And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?” his lower claws dig into the medical recliner.
“Eat it with your dinner,” the doctor snaps, “give it to your colleagues or friends or whatever. If you want to potentially keep your vision longer, you’re gonna have to make sacrifices.”
“And what kind of sacrifices?” his voice is far too high pitched and great, now he’s squeaking.
“Well for one. Stay away from the fucking light, especially the blue kind, those rot your eyes. Uuuh, eat carrots, get some sleep, don’t smoke, stay away from light-”
Val is clenching his teeth so hard he’s almost afraid they may shatter.
“You already said that,” he growls.
“Well, it’s probably the most important,” the doctor snips back, “you said you work at a studio, right? All those bright lights, cameras, editing screens, honestly I don’t even know why you’re surprised your sight is going.”
Dontkillhimdontkillhimdontkillhimdont fucking killhim-
“Well,” he’s squeaking like a madman now, but he can’t even find it in him to care, “I do have a job you know.”
“Well then I hope you have a retirement plan cuz that’s not gonna fly anymore.”
Dontkillhimdontkillhimdontkillhim-
“And there’s… nothing I can do?”
“What do you think dumbass,” the doctor asks blandly, “you came here for your eyes not your brain. And if this is how smart you are, you may need to check that out next.”
Dontkillhimdontkillhimdon-
Fuck it.
The doctor sighs.
“Make it quick, will ya?”
Val does.
Later, with the doctor's detached head dripping blood on his custom made boots, Val looks at the paper still in his grasp. After hesitating only for a second, he eats it.
Thank God this specific room doesn’t have Voxtech cameras.
oOo
When he comes back home later that day, Kitty has already cooked dinner and his fellow Vs had already fucked off to who knows where.
Which is fine, he’s not entirely sure he even wants to put on a front right now.
As he eats the enchilada Kitty had prepared for him, he can’t help but feel a twinge of fear for the first time in his eternal afterlife.
And how funny is that?
The great Valentino, the man who took hell by storm, a part of the most influential, dangerous trio in hell, and (unofficial) partner to one of the most powerful overlords, afraid.
Because their brand, as Vox constantly tells him, is perfection.
Despite the flaws and grits underneath, they always present a shiny finish. Harmonized and unstoppable. It’s only within the private walls of their home when they allow themselves to be anything else.
This image, as Val has been told, is what gives them their power. It’s about the trust and fear they’ve built within Hell's ever changing community. It’s what allows them to be on top. There is no room for anything less than perfect.
What would happen when Val isn’t perfect anymore?
Shitty eyesight they can handle. Everyone and their mother know that this isn’t a weakness that could drag them down.
But full blindness? How would he be able to do his work? How will he be able to go around? How will he be able to sense an attack or tell if his employees are doing their goddamned job? How the fuck will he be able to manage Angel Dust with that slippery slut always moving and getting bolder with his comebacks?
Val isn’t stupid. He may not be as smart as he used to be, but even he can see the glaring obviousness and weakness he would subject the brand to if anybody found out. If Vox found out.
What would he do then?
As much as Val hated to admit it, he needed the Vees. Any plans of escape he may have had in the past were long past their expiration date and he was in far too deep to be able to just leave. He needed Vox to film his movies and he needed Velvet to advertise them.
Not just that, but he needed them to keep his emotions in check. Even Val knows he’s not good at concealing his emotions anymore. Why would he when he always had Vox to vent to? Or Velvette to help clean his messes? Or Vox to stop his mess before it even happens?
Can he even survive without them?
The realization on how dependent he’s come to be on them is sickening. What happened to him? How did he never notice?
Worse, the mere thought of losing them is nauseating in a way he hasn’t felt in years. It’s not even about the money, he realizes, or the security and comfort.
It’s about the quiet moments when they watch TV together, it’s the fun they have as they burn down a sinner’s dreams and conquer their souls, it’s the simple content of simply eating a meal together. It’s shit talking each other behind their backs.
They’re the closest thing he has to a family, he realizes with dread.
And how fucked up is that?
How fucked up is he to have grown so attached to such a conditional relationship?
It takes everything in him to not wreck his own studio that night.
He puts Angel through it again and again, telling the slut to look like he means it. He doesn’t need his vision to know the hateful thoughts that go through Angel’s head in that moment.
Nonetheless, Angel does as he’s told.
It’s only when Val can be positive that he made a good film, that they have enough shots, to finally end the shift.
Angel must’ve finally gotten the hint, as for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t make a snarky comment under his breath or whisper a heated insult. He simply says, “thank you daddy,” and leaves to the fucking hotel where he’s definitely going to complain about Val to his “friends” or whatever.
For some reason, the thought fills his head with unspeakable rage, and he storms off to his chambers for the night (or morning?).
He’s proud of himself for only ripping apart a few sinners on his way there. Whether they’re his, Velvette’s, or Vox’s, he doesn’t know nor care.
Finally, he makes it to his chambers. The door slams harshly behind him as he shuts off the lights and collapses dramatically on his bed, still fully clothed.
He is so glad he decided to forgo makeup today. Quickly stripping himself of his shirt and pants, he simply lays down in the dark, waiting for the sweet relief of sleep to overtake him.
oOo
Vox comes to his chambers that night. Val would be lying if he says he was completely surprised, he tends to do so whenever Val causes a bloodshed.
Still, Val can’t help but smile when he sees the glowing screen in his dark room.
Before the TV can even say anything, Val grabs him by the wrist and pulls him in the bed, ignoring his yelp of protest.
“Glad you could join me,” he mutters, tiredly nuzzling against the side of his screen.
He can hear Vox sigh.
“If you really wanted me to join you, you could’ve just said something. You don’t have to tear up five of my employees. One of them was getting me coffee.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing I tore him. Lucifer himself knows you drink too much of that. It’s not good for your heart amor.” He drapes his leg over Vox’s, “you should be thanking me really.”
“Fuck off Val.”
“So cruel,” he sits up to lean over Vox’s head, his best pouty face on, “and after I so generously invited you into my bed.”
“This is you inviting me?”
“Well, it worked didn’t it?”
Vox sighs again, but this time curls his arm around Val’s back.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Next thing he knows, sharp claws are digging into his face and an electric tongue is in his mouth.
Instinctively, he’s quick to return the kiss as he moves on top of the other demon.
They make out for a while, and Val is almost getting turned on when Vox pulls away, a string of saliva between the two. For a moment, Val can only stare into blurry but bright and hypnotizing red eyes.
“Don’t think this is gonna get you out of beheading the doctor,” Vox says.
Val groans and rolls off the other demon.
“I only ripped his head off,” Val whines, “how’d you even find out about that?” because Val KNOWS there weren’t any cameras in the room with them… right?
“Your appointments are under my bill. So you can imagine my surprise when I receive a $50,000 fine for, in their words, ‘removal of the doctors cephalic’. You wanna explain that Val?”
Uh oh.
“Okay well that bitch had it coming!”
“Oh yeah?” Vox says, not even trying to hide his condescension, “what, he insult your newest film or something?”
“No!” Val huffs, mind going a thousand miles per minute “he called me a dumbass!”
Alright, well that sounded more petulant than he would have liked, but that works.
Vox mutters something about him not being wrong, and Val can only dramatically bury his face in the crook of the others neck, carefully avoiding the corner of his screen as to not poke his eye out.
“That’s different,” he grumbles. “At least I’m your dumbass. That asshole just called me a dumbass. Completely different!”
Oooh ‘ your dumbass ’ is clever. Even Val impresses himself sometimes.
Vox is quiet for a minute.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Val internally breathes a sigh of relief.
“Damn right I am. Now cuddle me.”
“Alright, alright. You big baby.”
The tone is meant to sound exasperated, but Val can still hear the underline affection.
Dark blue arms wrap loosely around him, and Val is quick to cling to him, moving his head to rest on the others shoulder.
Right there, in the comfort of synthetic skin and the soft whirling of Vox’s monitor, Val is at the most peace he’s been in all day.
oOo
For the next few months, Val continues on as if everything is normal.
He continues to film, he continues to contribute to Velvette’s shows, and he continues to have generally mind-blowing sex with Vox.
If they’ve noticed anything is up with him, they’re doing a phenomenal job at hiding it.
Or Val is. Every time he suspects suspicion he throws a tantrum and that usually seems to fix things. Plus he gets time with Vox so that’s also a win.
His vision gets worse, obviously. The black dot continues to spread around his peripherals to where at this point it’s basically the equivalent of looking through a glass dildo from the balls end.
But he manages. Valentino never relied too much on his vision, so he can still make out the shapes and shadows that he can barely manage to see. He can still navigate and get around, and that’s what’s really important.
Besides, his other senses have always been strong, but now they haven’t ever been better. Val has been able to detect somebody’s movement just by the sounds, smell, and that weird feeling you get when somebody’s next to you.
Overall, Val’s awesome and talented and he’s totally got this. He’s losing his vision, so what? He’s still going to be the one of the strongest demons in Hell.
… As long as his colleagues don’t find out.
But they won’t. He’ll make sure of that.
He’s got this.
He’s definitely got this.
oOo
That night, Vox walks him to his room, a rare occurrence these days.
Val invites him to stay the night, but he declines. Something about the Radio Demon (again) and how he’s “so close” to figuring the prick out.
Predictable, but Val still feels the tiniest twinge of disappointment.
Vox, knowing Val as well as he does, only chuckles and tells him how “Daddy will make it up to him later.”
It’s a lie, but Val nonetheless scoffs.
“You better.”
To his immense surprise, Vox pulls him in for a quick kiss. It’s a chaste little thing, doesn’t even have tongue.
Yet Val is still speechless. When Vox pulls away, Val may not be able to see his face anymore, but his light shines out in all that darkness, the single spark in an eternity of nothing, a beacon that will draw Val in every time.
He faintly feels Vox pat him on the cheek before saying goodnight, and then the light is gone.
One could never understand how much Val hates how badly he wants to follow him.
The next day, Val wakes up to complete darkness.