Could I please request a yandere Vees x Charlie's sister reader?
Imagine the sweetest quiet princess imaginable that could give you cavities just by smiling at you, Being courted on by the unholy trinity of overlords, Gifts being piled up with sweet and NSFW messages attached by the front lobby that it creates a fire hazard as the crew is shocked and kinda intrigued especially since it involves Charlie and Lucifer.
Meanwhile poor reader is unaware of their advances and sends them thank you gifts and sweet replies which only fuels the fire between V tower and the Hazbin Hotel. (Vox would totally use his hypnosis as part of the plan)
Hihi! Thank you for the req! I rlly like this one :)) enjoy
You sit in the cozy window seat of the Hazbin Hotel’s library, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass panes in soft rainbow hues across your lap. A sketchbook rests on your knees, filled with delicate drawings of redeemed sinners and whimsical Hellscapes that somehow still manage to look hopeful. Your sister Charlie calls you her “little sunshine in the pit,” and even Lucifer, your dad, ruffles your hair and declares you too pure for the rings you were born into. Quiet by nature, you prefer gentle smiles and handwritten notes over grand speeches. Your voice is soft, almost melodic, the kind that makes demons pause mid-rant just to listen.
You have no idea that three of the most powerful, depraved Overlords in Pentagram City have set their sights on you.
It started subtly enough.
A single black-and-crimson box arrived at the hotel’s front desk one morning, wrapped in velvet ribbon that shimmered like fresh blood under stage lights. Inside: a necklace of glowing crimson rubies shaped like tiny hearts, each one pulsing faintly with embedded VoxTek tech. The card attached was written in elegant, looping script:
“To the sweetest princess in Hell,
Your smile could power a thousand screens. Wear this so I can keep you close.
Always watching,
—Vox”
Niffty squealed and tried to climb the box like a mountain. Husk grunted something about “fucking tech overlords” and poured himself a double. Angel Dust whistled low, picking up the necklace with two fingers. “Whoa, toots. That’s some high-end ‘come fuck me’ jewelry.”
Charlie’s eyes widened in horror. “That’s for my sister?! No. Absolutely not. Dad’s gonna lose it.”
But the gifts didn’t stop.
The next day, a towering arrangement of black roses and glowing neon lilies arrived, petals edged in electric blue. Tucked inside was a silk lingerie set in your exact size—delicate, expensive, and filthy in its implications. The note, scented with Valentino’s signature smoke-and-sin cologne, read:
“Mi dulce princesita,
Imagine this against your skin while I whisper all the pretty things I’d do to make you moan my name.
You’d look so good crying for me.
—Valentino 💋”
By the third day, the lobby was starting to look like a war zone of luxury. Stacks of designer dresses from Velvette’s latest collection, each with handwritten compliments on the tags: “This color would make that innocent blush pop, babe. Wear it when you finally sit on my lap.” Limited-edition VoxTek tablets pre-loaded with playlists titled “Songs to make the quiet ones scream.” A custom perfume from Valentino that smelled like sin and strawberries. Velvette sent a pair of thigh-high boots with hidden knives in the heels and a note that simply said, “For when the hotel gets boring, cutie.”
The pile grew so high it became a legitimate fire hazard. Charlie tried to organize it. Alastor’s grin sharpened with every new delivery, static crackling in the air. “My dear, it appears the picture box and his little pets have taken quite the fancy to our resident angel.”
Lucifer showed up in a burst of dramatic flames after the seventh delivery—a life-sized portrait of you painted by one of Valentino’s artists, with a very NSFW alternative version hidden behind it. “THEY SENT MY BABY GIRL LINGERIE?! I’ll turn that flat-faced TV into a paperweight!”
You remained blissfully unaware of the full extent of their intentions.
You were in the garden behind the hotel, humming softly while tending to a patch of hellpoppies that bloomed brighter around you, when the latest delivery arrived. A massive bouquet of glowing flowers that shifted colors to match your mood—currently soft pink and gold. Attached was a sleek black box from VoxTek.
Inside: a delicate bracelet that hummed with gentle static, and a handwritten note in Vox’s precise, digital font mixed with flowing ink:
“Princess,
Every time you smile, my entire grid lights up. Let me be the one to keep that smile safe. Wear this, and think of me. I’ll make sure no one else ever gets close enough to dim it.
Hypnotized by you,
Vox”
You tilted your head, cheeks flushing a pretty rose. “Oh… that’s so kind. They keep sending such thoughtful things.” You didn’t notice the faint hypnotic pulse in the bracelet’s core, designed to make your thoughts drift toward V Tower whenever you felt lonely.
You carefully wrote three separate thank-you notes in your elegant, looping handwriting, sealing them with little wax seals pressed with a heart stamp.
To Vox:
“Dear Vox,
Thank you for the beautiful bracelet. It feels warm, like a friend is nearby. Your flowers made the whole lobby smell amazing. I hope you have a wonderful day full of bright ideas!
With gratitude,
Charlie’s Sister 💕”
To Valentino:
“Dear Mr. Valentino,
The roses are stunning! I’ve never seen black ones that glow like that. You’re very generous. I drew a little picture of one for you—hope it makes you smile.
Sweetly yours,
Charlie’s Sister”
To Velvette:
“Dearest Velvette,
The dresses are so pretty! I tried on the pink one—it twirls perfectly. You have such wonderful taste. Thank you for thinking of me.
Hugs,
Charlie’s Sister”
You even sent small gifts back: a handmade friendship bracelet woven with protective runes for Vox, a watercolor portrait of a stylish outfit for Velvette, and a batch of homemade cookies shaped like little hearts for Valentino (with extra sugar because you thought he might like sweet things).
The Vees lost their collective minds.
Inside V Tower, the penthouse suite was thick with tension and ego.
Vox’s screen face glitched with static joy as he read your note for the fifth time, the bracelet’s signal feeding him faint images of you smiling in the hotel garden. “She called it warm. She’s wearing it. She’s wearing my fucking mark.” His hypnosis script was working—slowly, gently pulling your thoughts toward him during quiet moments.
Valentino lounged on a heart-shaped couch, your watercolor portrait propped on his lap like a trophy. He exhaled a cloud of pink smoke. “Look at this handwriting. So fucking innocent. I want to ruin it with my name on her tongue. She sent me cookies, Vox. Cookies. I’m going to bend her over my desk and—”
“Shut the fuck up, Val,” Velvette snapped, but she was smirking, twirling the friendship bracelet around her finger. “She liked the dresses. Said they twirl. We need to escalate. The hotel freaks are probably having aneurysms.”
Vox leaned back, eyes narrowed in a predatory grin. “She’s too pure to realize we’re courting her. Perfect. Next wave: I’ll broadcast a private signal through her bracelet—subtle suggestions. Make her dream about us. Valentino, send the custom toy set. Velvette, the lingerie photoshoot invitation disguised as a ‘fashion consultation.’”
Back at the hotel, chaos reigned.
The lobby looked like a luxury department store had exploded. Angel Dust was modeling one of the dresses, striking poses. “Damn, these threads are fire. Your sister’s got herself a harem of psychos, Charlie.”
Husk grumbled from the bar. “Three Overlords simping for the quiet kid. This ends in blood.”
Alastor’s shadow stretched across the ceiling. “How delightfully entertaining. The Radio Demon versus the Vees for the heart of a princess. I do love a good rivalry.”
Charlie paced frantically, wings half-flared. “She doesn’t even know! She thinks they’re being nice! Dad nearly set the gifts on fire this morning!”
Lucifer appeared in a swirl of apple-scented smoke, clutching one of the NSFW notes like evidence in a trial. “My precious baby girl is being courted by porn and television! I raised her better than this!”
You wandered in from the garden, still humming, the new bracelet glinting on your wrist. Everyone froze.
“Hi everyone,” you said softly, offering that cavity-inducing smile. “More gifts? That’s so sweet of them. I sent thank-yous and some cookies. Do you think they liked them?”
Angel Dust cackled. “Toots, they liked them too much.”
Charlie rushed over, grabbing your hands. “Sis, you need to understand—these aren’t just nice demons. They’re… intense.”
You blinked, tilting your head. “They seem very thoughtful. Vox’s bracelet makes me feel less alone when I’m drawing. And Valentino’s flowers are so pretty in my room.”
A faint static hum came from the bracelet. For a second, your eyes softened dreamily, imagining a tall, charismatic TV demon smiling just for you.
Outside, a new delivery van pulled up—three massive boxes this time.
One from Vox: a custom headset that promised “the clearest music in Hell” (and doubled as a two-way communication device with hypnotic undertones).
One from Valentino: a discreet, luxurious box containing toys “for when the nights get long and lonely, princesa,” with a note detailing exactly how he wanted to watch you use them.
One from Velvette: an entire wardrobe capsule collection with a handwritten invitation to “a private styling session at Vee Tower. Bring that innocent energy, babe. We’ll make it filthy.”
You opened the cards first, reading them aloud in your gentle voice, completely missing the explicit subtext.
The crew watched in horrified fascination as you started writing more thank-you notes, cheeks pink with genuine appreciation.
Vox’s screen in the corner of one of the gift boxes flickered to life briefly—his face appearing in a private feed only he could see, glitching with possessive delight. “That’s it, princess… keep smiling at us. We’re coming for you.”
Days blurred into a feverish exchange.
You baked more cookies. You drew portraits. You sent polite, heart-melting replies that made the Vees more obsessed.
Valentino started sending daily “good morning, mi amor” voice messages that oozed seduction.
Velvette sent outfit-of-the-day suggestions that grew increasingly revealing.
Vox began appearing on every screen in the hotel for split seconds, whispering compliments only you seemed to hear, thanks to the bracelet amplifying his signal.
The rivalry intensified. Alastor started “accidentally” sabotaging deliveries with shadowy tentacles. Lucifer enchanted half the gifts to scream show tunes when opened. Charlie tried to mediate with increasingly desperate redemption pitches aimed at the Vees themselves.
Yet you remained the eye of the storm—sweet, quiet, devastatingly unaware—your gentle thank-yous and returned gifts only pouring gasoline on the fire.
One evening, as another mountain of presents threatened to collapse the front desk, you stood among them, holding a new handwritten card from all three Vees.
“We’re not asking anymore, princess.
Come to V Tower. Let us worship you the way you deserve.
—The Vees”
You smiled softly, pressing the card to your chest.
“They really are persistent,” you murmured. “I should send more cookies.”
The hotel crew collectively facepalmed as another delivery truck rumbled up outside.
The war for your heart—and the very real danger of three Overlords burning down half the Pride Ring over it—was only just beginning.
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