Work Text:
Velvette was angry.
Actually, angry was an understatement. She was furious. Her long red‑and‑blue hair, tied up in a high ponytail this time, flowed behind her like a cape. Her high heels clicked sharply against the slippery floor of Valentino’s studio.
She probably didn’t even want to know what she was stepping on. She only hoped it wasn’t anything that had come out of her “friend.” She wouldn’t be able to handle that.
At the door she passed three half‑naked wolves, but she didn’t stop. She had learned long ago not to react to the rabble’s taunts. She didn’t stop even when one of those perverts loudly complimented her breasts while laughing, and another slapped her on the ass. Under normal circumstances they would both be dead, but Velvette wasn’t about to waste unnecessary time. Besides, sadism was Valentino’s department.
“Val!” she screamed as she crossed the threshold. She regretted a little that she hadn’t interrupted a more important shot. Watching him take out his anger on everyone—especially Angel Dust—over a ruined scene was always entertaining.
“Oh, hey Vel,” he muttered without lifting his eyes from his phone. He pressed the receiver to his ear and yelled, “What the fuck do you mean he’s not in the dressing room?! Find him and bring him here right now, we’re starting the shoot!”
Calm down, Velvette, calm down. Try not to kill him.
“What was that supposed to be during the last interview?” she hissed once she managed to steady her breathing. She immediately regained the moth’s attention.
“Which interview?” he asked blankly. “Is this about the outfit again?”
The sinner wanted to smack her forehead with her palm. This bald insect was really getting on her nerves.
“‘I defeated Vox all by myself. After all, I’m at the top of the Vees for a reason,’” she repeated his words. “Are you fucking insane?! We took down that old TV together, just like we’re together at the top of the Vees! WE are the Vees! If it weren’t for me, we would’ve blown up!” she screamed, breathing heavily.
“What do you want me to say, doll,” Valentino clicked his tongue. “TV is TV. I can’t say it was our shared achievement, because then the questions would start. And we can’t afford questions, remember? And could you make coffee? I’ve been on my feet for six hours, I’m dead on my feet.”
She wanted to strangle him. She honestly didn’t know what was stopping her from stabbing him in the gut. By what fucking right did that disgusting bug talk to her like she was one of his whores? She was his partner, on the same level in the hierarchy as him.
“I’m not your whore,” she growled, her eyes turning red.
But Valentino had already lost interest in the conversation. He was scrolling through something on his phone, furiously texting someone—probably Angel Dust.
She spun around sharply and left. At the door she passed Angel wrapped in a bathrobe and deliberately bumped him with her shoulder. She didn’t care how childish it was. She had never liked that promiscuous spider, and now that he was back with Val, she had to put up with him every day.
Rage was boiling in her veins. She felt it, felt it seep into every corner of her body. Felt her power trying to break free, and she refused to let it. She ran into the first dressing room she saw, feeling anger fizz beneath her skin.
She exploded. Vines burst from her eyes, hands, hair, spreading across the entire room. They pierced a dozen pieces of clothing, furniture, and the three wolves who had harassed her earlier.
Well, as they say, karma comes back around.
She was breathing fast and hard, her eyes black and empty. Too bad none of the demons had ever taught her how to control this. It could erupt at any moment, destroying the plan she had spent years perfecting.
She braced her hands against the wall, then, overwhelmed by emotion, slammed her fist into it. The surface cracked with a loud snap. Luckily, no one was in the room next door. She kept breathing for a moment, and then the vines slowly, reluctantly slid back under her skin. Only then did she lean her back against the broken wall and slide down to the floor.
It had started innocently. She began noticing signs others couldn’t see. Vox was their face. Valentino their entertainment. And what was she? She was everything. She protected their reputation. She handled the media. She was a designer, stylist, manager, but also a free consultant, cleaner, assistant, bodyguard, journalist, and secretary. And yet she was always the one left in their shadow.
Still, she decided to play their game. She pretended not to see how they used her, and those idiots believed it. She stayed quiet, spoke only when necessary, buried herself in her phone, scheduled their endless parties and meetings without ever asking about herself.
But Velvette wasn’t naive, no matter what Vox and Val thought. Every time they assumed she was lost in her phone, in her own world, hearing and understanding nothing, she was waiting. Waiting, watching, planning.
She made deals no one should ever speak of. She sold the souls of dozens of Valentino’s whores, and he didn’t even notice. Foolish idiot. She negotiated with demons no sane person would dare approach.
Valentino was planning something. She felt it in her bones, heard it in the whispered conversations he had with Vox’s head. Once again, one of them was trying to surpass her, steal all her achievements. But they didn’t know they were only creating her opportunity.
One chance had already slipped away. She wasn’t going to waste another. All because of that fucking Charlie Morningstar and Vox. She had planned everything—except the princess’s little hotel becoming such a success. And except Vincent deciding to blow them all up. Some things simply can’t be predicted.
Of course, she could have defeated him then. She would’ve done it effortlessly. And then Val too, becoming the only, most powerful of the Vees.
But she didn’t want an easy victory. She wanted to achieve what they had planned together, the three of them. And then, looking them in the eyes, take it all away with a single move and build something new. Something with no place for them.
She wanted to watch them begin to understand that they had never used her. That they had been nothing but pawns in her game. Her brutal, murderous, sadistic game. And that they survived only by miracle.
Valentino thought he was better than Vox, but in truth they were the same. Weak, dependent on others, blinded by pride. Both had forgotten who held the strings of the Vees. And who could let them go at any moment.
They would both end the same way.
Patience, Velvette.
Soon this entire façade, the lies, the manipulation would crumble. And she would remind them who had been behind their success from the very beginning—success they tried to claim for themselves.
They would pay for all the humiliation and for pushing her into the shadows. They would pay for treating her like a lesser Vee, even though she was smarter and did more than the two of them combined. They would pay for treating her like someone easy to manipulate. They would pay for denying her the respect she deserved.
Vox and Valentino would remember her. So would Heaven, Hell, and everyone who had ever underestimated her.
The hour of revenge had begun.