Reader being the fourth vee in this whole mess and just straight up nopes out when you see just how UNHINGED Vox is getting and you know his ass is going to get you, y'know, actually killed?? Like your shit is racing because there's no after-afterlife like fucking hell this motherfucker is gonna send angels to your fucking doorstep with the bullseye he painted himself.
Valentino and Velvette?? Hot at your heels and just fucking nopes out too because this shit isn't funny anymore and the idea of "overthrowing" and "ruling" heaven too?? Excuse me, a holy-fucking-war?? BE FR. That ain't the cosmopolitans and margeritas and modeling and runways and EVERYTHING THEY WORKED HARD FOR!! JUST TO BE THROWN OUT!!! BECAUSE SOMEONE IS WAAAAAY OVER HIS HEAD!!!!!!
Pt 2 of what would happen if you went missing. How the vees would react when they found you, and the aftermath.
Warnings: Slight stalking and manipulation, obsessive Vees, they care in their own ways
Word count: 563
Vox finally finds you before you can even spot him, he shocks himself in front of you. You yelp, his flickering screen shining as he makes the longest eye contact you’ve ever had. Despite what you expected, he doesn’t yell, hurt, or threaten. Just pauses as his unwavering grin brings an almost chilling static. “You’re alive, thanks for letting us know.” He says sarcastically as if unbothered about your absence. His appearance is the same, still pressed, clean, and unbothered. Though the slight droop in his eyes shows he was more stressed than he leads on. He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, gripping it til it bruises. He leans towards you, “Don’t ever do that again.” He lets go, completely doing a 360 as he starts chuckling to himself. Before he can say anything else-
Valentino bursts into the room, dramatic stomping as he walks towards you. “You fucking bitch- what were you thinking?” Abruptly yanking you away as Vox rolls his eyes. “Think you can just run away like a whore and not tell anyone?”. Grabbing you by your collar, Val searches for anything. A reaction or explanation, something that could calm him down. Yet when he doesn’t find anything, he scowls. “Whore.” He drops you abruptly; Leaving you to stumble on your own feet.
Velvette almost on cue, walks in, snarky face, heels tapping against the glass floor. “Oh! Look who decided to show their pretty little face. Cute.” She circles around you. Examining your face, features, clothes. She smirks, “You look like shit, btw.” She comes just close enough for you to see her strained face. Eyeliner looks desolate, and her eyes laced with tiredness and relief at the same time. She notices your prolonged gaze, quirking an eyebrow. “What? Want me to say some sentimental bullshit? Well I won’t. Fuck off.” She hissed as she flips you off.
Believe it or not, they’re not mad at you. How could they? Whether they admitted it, they all knew how much they missed you. All thinking the same thing, what if something had happened to you and they had no control? That’s what makes taking these extra precautions necessary. At least that’s what Vox says.
As the week continues, Vox added “upgrades” to your phone. High tech GPS here, phone camera flickering for a second there. Plus his excessive physical touch when he’s around you. Tightening his hand on your shoulder at all times, grounding you to stay right next to him as if you could be stolen or run at any moment. Vox gets an ego trip off his power, especially when he exerts it on people he considers close to being his equal.
Velvette not only controls your social media, she grinned, “just looking out for you!” ; but also by pushing herself into your life. Sometimes she’ll even stop you from leaving the tower, insisting she goes out with you or better yet- stay here with her as she works. Not that she needs help but your company would be nice. If you do get a chance to finally sneak out for alone time, she’s there. Shopping? She’s there. Coffee? She’s there! Same coincidence. She claims it’s not on purpose and she’s not stalking you. It’s not much of issue anyways, she’s just hanging out. Plus who wouldn’t want someone with her stature seen with them in public?
Valentino INSISTS on being near you, though he won’t lie. He’s a busy man, but when he can make the time, believe he will; consider this special, he’d never do it for anyone else. He’s just like Velvette as well, inviting you to accompany him at work. And yes he definitely pressures you to consider sleeping in the same bed with him and Vox If you weren’t already. “It’s just for extra security, you don’t even have to have s-“ Vox cuts him off with a glare. Causing Valentino to turn his attention back to you smirking. “like I said, extra security babe.”
It was fine at first, but now weeks pass with this constant pressure and suffocation.
You argue that you don’t need to babied, this is invading your personal space. Vox laughs in your face, dismissing your concerns as he pats your head. “You want less monitoring?” You nod, “Then earn it.” He looks you dead in the eyes, “until then!” He taps your face, in a belittling way. Velvette follows suit, in a more condescending way. “Maybe if you didn’t run off like a kid, we wouldn’t treat you like it.” Valentino teases, “ ‘cause you clearly can’t keep yourself outta trouble.” You try to explain yourself again but no matter what you say it doesn’t work. One of them always has a stupid snarky remark to reply with.
VOX, the man who holds you so closely in private, but keeps his distance in public. Yes, of course the public knows that you’re dating, but he doesn’t want to appear overly ‘clingy’ or effeminate on camera. He simply expects you to wait obediently on the sidelines. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take your feelings into account when you express how ‘left out you feel’ at the display. He’ll tell you that you’re being too clingy and isolate himself even more, making the problem even worse.
VOX, the man who distances himself from you because of his past grievances. Alastor turning down his offer to be a team still haunts him to this day, and sometimes even causes him to lash out. Vox doesn’t see a relationship as a team, he sees it through the eyes of a transaction—no matter how pure that transaction is. You give him love, he provides for you. Isn’t that how a relationship should be?
VOX, the man who still has his 1950’s era beliefs ingrained into his soul. He may be fine with gay marriage, murder, and many other untraditional hellish behaviors—but he still feels the need to provide for his partner. This toxic masculinity causes him to work from the early morning to late into the evening, all to keep up the ‘grind’. If you question or try to deter him from spending so much time in his office, he simply guilt trips you into believing he simply is trying to provide for you—which in theory, he is.
VOX, the man who completely shuts down when Alastor returns from his seven year hiatus. Everything he has built, and everything he has accomplished is all at risk—and he can’t handle it. He spends days bed rotting and moping after Alastor ‘embarrassed’ him after coming back and kickstarting his radio broadcast again. The worst part? No matter how hard you try, Vox is still inconsolable, probably the angriest you’ve ever seen him, and there’s nothing you can do.
VOX, the man who can’t feel anything from his mechanical body. He can still feel pain, of course. It’s hell after all. Yet, he can’t feel the gentle touches you give when you gently hold his hand, or the way your chaste kisses feel over his chest. He feels no pleasure, only the pain he’s dealt.
VOX, the man who loves you so much it hurts. Despite all of his red flags and infuriating tendencies, somehow managed to win over someone as amazing as you. He still doesn’t even know how he did it. His worst fear is someone taking you from him. It’s a fear that haunts him too often, which is enough for his enemies to know where to strike if the opportunity opens up.
. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [How do the Vees react if their baby calls them by their name and not mom/dad?] ࿐ྂ
Summary: How would some of the Hearthstone characters react if their baby called them by name one day? I saw a TikTok about it and found some of the parents' reactions hilarious. (@lovevox5)
Type: Platonic, Reaction/One-Shot
Warning: None
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Vox
The light from Vox's studio reflected off the immense cylindrical fish tank that dominated the room. There, Shok.wav slithered gracefully. You, sitting on a rug, your eyes as wide as your father's screens, completely mesmerized by the aquatic dance of your shark "brother." He, as if he knew it, traced perfect circles in front of you, displaying his pixelated back.
"Yay, fish," you said, clapping with those tiny hands, and you could have sworn the shark's digital grin widened a few pixels. You crawled toward the cold glass, drawn by the spectacle, and pressed your palms against the surface. The world shrank to fins and bubbles.
"No, no, baby. Be careful," a voice echoed behind you, modulated and full of affectionate static. You turned. There was Vox, but not as you'd ever seen him. Lucía wore a brand-new suit, impeccably white, that shimmered in the light like the most expensive screen in the Pentagram. Electric blue details flickered softly along the edges. She was radiant. "We don't want any accidents. That glass is incredibly expensive."
"Daddy! Daddy!" You launched yourself at him, crawling at top speed. He laughed, a sound that was genuinely canned laughter, and ducked down to keep up with you, catching you mid-air. "Awww, were my two babies having fun?" he asked, looking alternately at your sparkling eyes and Shok.wav, who was doing a triumphant lap in his tank.
Your tiny hands explored the new, soft, cool fabric. "Daddy," you said, marveling.
"Yes, baby. It's new. Today's my big debut day. And tomorrow… tomorrow we start ruling Heaven," he declared, puffing out his chest. His screen displayed a shooting star emoji. "And you're not going to be left out! You also have a dress to match your daddy's. Sit there, I'll get it."
He gently placed you in his enormous swivel executive chair, black leather with shimmering blue stitching. You rocked, staring at your little shoes as a jolt of static electricity, a bluish crack, signaled that Vox had teleported away in an instant. You waited, swinging your feet.
Within minutes, another crack announced his return. He carried a small white silk box. With an anticipatory smile, he opened it and took out a little white dress, identical in style to his own. But along the hem, embroidered with thread that subtly changed color, was a row of light blue hearts. It was perfect.
"Come on, my star," he said. He stood you on his desk, atop holographic maps of Heaven, and dressed you with a delicacy that contrasted sharply with his boundless ambition. "Good. Look at you. Just as lovely as your father. You're his spitting image, my love," he murmured, adjusting a ribbon. His screen displayed a heart that beat once. "Now, let's go. History awaits. Shok.wav, you're in the second act, sweetie."
Holding you with one arm, he gestured with his free hand. The world disintegrated in a whirlwind of blue sparks and the sensation of being instantly disassembled and reassembled. You landed (softly) backstage, amidst the bustle of lights and assistants. Vox held you with visible pride, his smug grin in full display.
"Awww, but look how adorable you two look together!" A deep, melodious voice cut through the air. Valentino materialized from the shadows, his four arms outstretched in a dramatic gesture. "We should take a picture, Voxxy." Gently, but without any possibility of refusal, he snatched you from Vox's arms. His perfume of expensive tobacco and amber enveloped you. "Boop," he went, touching your nose with a lilac finger. "Awww, who's Daddy's little girl? You are, aren't you? Oh, yes, you're my girl."
"You look amazing too, Val," Vox said, his arm encircling the moth's slender waist.
Valentino blushed, a darker shade of violet spreading across his cheeks. "Ugh, ew, obviously I always look great. Only the best for the best." They moved closer, their eyes locked, about to close the distance in a kiss that promised to be as theatrical as everything about them.
It was then that you, from Valentino's arm, decided to intervene.
"Voxxy… Vox," you said, clear as an off switch.
Valentino let out a guttural laugh, which he immediately covered with a hand, his shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter. Vox's smile on his screen vanished. It was replaced by a straight, flat, ominous line. He turned his head slowly toward you.
"Oh, no," Vox said, his voice suddenly flat.
"Well, you deserve it. For what you did to me before," Val said, his eyes still gleaming with malicious amusement.
"That was an accident!" Vox protested, his static crackling with indignation.
"Vox," you insisted, testing the sound of his name, that one-syllable word that was such an effective weapon.
"No, no, baby," Valentino interjected, composing his expression with a mock maternal seriousness. "I don't think Daddy Vox likes you calling him that, does he?" He blinked at his partner, defiant.
Vox stared at him with his arms crossed. You could hear the whir of his internal fans speeding up. Finally, he cleared his throat (a sound of static adjusting).
"Y/N… to you, I'm Daddy," he began, with forced patience. "To the incompetent idiots I run into at meetings, I'm Vox—" He paused when he saw Valentino raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "—and… Voxxy is for the horny ones who really love me… I guess," he finished, resigned.
"Hmph. Don't you ever swear in front of our daughter again," Valentino scolded, cradling you. "What are we teaching our children?"
"Yes, yes. Whatever you say, Val," Vox conceded, her tone half annoyed, half affectionate. In one fluid motion, she regained her mischievous smile, grabbed Valentino by the waist again, and this time without hesitation, planted a kiss on him that made the backstage lights flicker briefly.
And you , without a doubt, the loudest, most brilliant, and most complicated in all of Hell.
Velvette
Velvette's studio was a controlled chaos. Fabrics and mannequins in impossible poses guarded the space. In the midst of this creative whirlwind, Velvette sat on a black velvet sofa, but her pose wasn't that of a ruthless Overlord. It was that of a mother.
You were in her arms, a perfect creation. Not a baby of flesh and blood, but a tiny porcelain doll, imbued with dark magic, into which she had breathed life with a whisper and a drop of her own essence. You were her most intimate masterpiece, and for that reason, with a ferocity that would shock anyone who only knew the social media diva, she was a protective mother. Vox and Valentino were busy with their "important matters," which to her were nothing more than children's games with screens and capes. Meanwhile, what truly mattered—her little work of art—required her personal attention. Mommy would take care of it.
You were a peaceful baby, observing the world with glass eyes that reflected the studio lights. With one small hand, you gently tugged a strand of her pink hair.
She looked up from the sketch she was working on her tablet and met your gaze, her usually skeptical eyebrow softening. “What’s wrong, darling?”
In response, you touched your tummy. A small gesture.
“Oh, my precious doll. Are you hungry?” Her voice completely lost the caustic edge she used with the outside world. “Melissa! Come here, darling.”
Melissa, her trusted assistant and something more, came running from behind a curtain, a splash of eager devotion in Velvette’s otherwise perfect setting. “Yes, Miss Velvette?”
“Darling, could you get some food for Y/N? Something mild. The usual, you know.” The request was gentle, almost a plea between lovers.
“Y-yes, of course.” Melissa, as always, blushed at the term of endearment and the intense gaze that accompanied it, and hurried to comply.
While they waited, Velvette carefully placed you on a black silk blanket spread on the floor, a small, safe oasis in the sea of disorder. “Explore a little, princess. Mommy has to finish this design.” She returned to her mannequin, pinning with surgical precision, but her eye—the one not hidden by her bangs—never left you.
In your exploration, you found a treasure: a stiletto heel, one of Velvette’s most lethal and expensive creations, forgotten next to the sofa leg. You picked it up curiously and put it in your mouth.
The sound of porcelain scraping against leather was enough. Velvette turned away in an instant. “Oh, Y/N! No, no, no.” She knelt beside you and gently but firmly removed the shoe. “You don’t bite that, my love. What would the press say? ‘Daughter of the Fashion Overlord Destroys Exclusive Design.’ I should buy you a new pacifier. A diamond one, maybe.” She stroked your cheek with the back of her fingers, a gesture of utter pampering.
Just then, Melissa returned with a small baby bottle. Velvette took the bottle, but with the same free hand, she gently hooked Melissa’s chin, drawing her face closer. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice dropping to an intimate and dangerously sweet register. “You know we have a date later, right? ~ We talked about that… private show.”
“V-Vel,” Melissa protested in a whisper, her cheeks flushed like sunrises. “Don’t do this in front of the baby.”
A slow, possessive smile spread across Velvette’s lips. “Don’t be shy. She’ll be your baby soon, too.” The declaration hung in the air, laden with a promise and a domesticity that contrasted absurdly with the gothic luxury that surrounded them.
It was then that you, from the floor, with the perfect clarity of someone learning to shape the world with sounds, uttered the word:
“Velvette.”
The silence that followed was absolute. The click of a pin hitting the floor sounded like thunder.
Both women froze and stared at you. Melissa’s expression was one of pure, gentle horror, as if you had uttered a magic word to unleash a demon. On Velvette’s face, surprise was instantaneous, but it was quickly replaced by a look of profound maternal disappointment, tinged with a glimpse of her true nature: a sovereign who accepts no challenges to her authority, not even from her most beloved creation.
She knelt again, meeting you at eye level. Her voice was soft, but every word was carved from ice. “Oh, no. Absolutely not, baby. First you attack my latest pair of Louboutins, and now you’re calling me by my name?” She tilted her head. “What happened to ‘Mommy’?”
Melissa found her voice, weak. “Vel, she’s just a kid… Maybe she’s just repeating things she hears us say.”
Velvette didn't take her eyes off yours. For a moment, a battle seemed to rage in her pupils between the Overlord and the mother. Finally, she sighed, and the ice cracked slightly. "I hope so," she said, gathering you in her arms. She nestled you against her chest and took the bottle from Melissa's trembling hand. "Because this little one," she murmured, addressing both you and her lover, "knows perfectly well who dressed her, who encouraged her, and who protects her. And that person is called 'Mom.'" She brought the nipple to your lips, her gaze softening completely. "Right, my doll?"
Outside, in the infernal city, her name was synonymous with trendiness and cruelty. But here, in the sanctuary of her studio, there was only the gentle sound of feeding, Melissa's knowing look, and the title that, for this unique creation, was the only one that mattered.
Valentino
The air in the studio smelled of makeup powder and the cold light of the spotlights. You were in your little pen—an elegant red velvet enclosure that Vox had had installed. "For your safety, darling," he said with that static smile. "And so you don't interrupt the grand plan." A gilded cage to keep you from wandering around the studio or the room. He couldn't watch you every second, even if he wanted to, and leaving you with someone else was unthinkable.
At the front, Valentino watched his models with a vacant stare. Normally, he directed the sessions with fervor, but today he saw only empty forms. The poses seemed basic, simple. They lacked soul. And all of it, he knew, was fuel for Vox's show, for that grand plan that increasingly sounded like hollow noise.
From your pen, you waved your arms. The bars were soft but firm. You wanted to get out, for your daddy to cuddle you and give you his undivided attention. You let out a whimper, reaching for him.
Valentino turned his head instantly, his tired expression softening for a second. "Sorry, baby. Daddy needs to finish this. Then it's all yours, promise?" His voice, for once, lacked its usual forced seduction, carrying a genuine apology.
"D-da…" you persisted, opening and closing your little hands.
He sighed, took a sip from his glass, and waved the models away. "Get out. It's no use." Just then, the door opened.
"Ah, my little star!"
Vox walked in with his perpetually smug grin. Valentino didn't even turn around, finishing his drink in one gulp.
"Everyone out," Vox ordered, and the studio emptied.
Without another word, Vox walked over, opened the enclosure, and pulled you out, clutching you to his chest. His suit smelled of electricity and cold ambition.
"Excuse me? Leave my daughter alone. She wants to be with me now," Valentino said, standing up. His voice was flat, but his gaze was a clear warning.
Vox took a step back, adjusting your position. "Our daughter, Val. OUR." The correction sounded mechanical and protective to you.
"Yeah, right. The agreement. I spend real time with her. I care about her, not the next step in your… conquest plan," Valentino said, rubbing his eyes with both hands. The other two rested on his hips, in a gesture of annoyance. "I won't argue in front of her anymore."
Vox set you down on the sofa, a brusque gesture compared to the way Val held you. "The plan is perfect. It's logical. It's the future. Something you seem to have forgotten amidst all your drama and fabrics."
“What I’ve ‘forgotten’ is why I decided to support you in this,” Valentino retorted, and for the first time, there was weariness in his voice, not just anger. “Your future sounds more and more like a prison. And I’ve had enough of one.” His fleeting glance went toward your empty playpen.
“Valentino,” you said, looking directly at him.
Both of you fell silent. Vox blinked, its screen displaying a question mark. Valentino, on the other hand, looked at you and saw only his daughter calling his name in a fit of rage. A weight of disappointment, not toward you, but toward the situation, settled on his shoulders.
“Come on, baby,” he said gently. He crossed the room, lifted you from the sofa—his four hands forming a secure cradle—and carried you to the next room, away from Vox.
The door closed. The air was warmer here, beside him. He sat you on the bed and knelt down.
“No, darling. To you, I’m Daddy,” he said, his voice rough but tender. “'Valentino' is for… business. For silly plans and arguments. For the idio—” He stopped, exhaling. “For Papa Vox, when he gets unbearable with his screens and his obsession.”
“Daddy!” you said, touching his face.
A genuine smile, tired but warm, lit up his face. “Yes, my love. That’s me. What a clever girl.” He hugged you, and for a moment, the weight of the plan, the study, Vox, vanished. The only thing that was real was you.
From the other room, the drone of a screen continued, insistent, calling for a war that Valentino no longer wanted to fight.
Warning: Do I even need to specify anything? They all are fucked up, that's why they're in Hell. Still, be warned, this is 18+. They are abusive AF.
-VALENTINO-
Getting together with this man would be the worst mistake of your life, or, well, of your death.
Seriously, don't make that mistake.
He's selfish, he's jealous, and he's narcissistic. He's a walking, talking red flag in every way possible.
He'll definitely love bomb you every time you fight, or when he thinks you're about to break things off, just to make you come back again.
He'll argue about anything and everything, and he'll start throwing stuff around to intimidate you.
And that will turn into physical abuse, soon after.
When he gets jealous, which happens far too often, he'll get even more aggressive and do/say everything to put you down. The less confidence you have, the better.
He'll isolate you even from your friends and family because he can't have you have a support group who'll help you (meaning, talk you into breaking up with him or have a place where you can run away to).
He's a total control freak, and if things happen that he isn't aware of or approved of, he'll lose his shit.
He'll text you every waking moment, and if you don't respond to him immediately, he'll lose his shit. Don't expect him to return the sentiment, though. He'll take HOURS to text back.
He'll take lots of nude pics of you. Videos too. And even if you like it or not, he'll show them around, and then when you get mad at him, he'll say some shit like, "I was just showing how beautiful you are, babe! It's not a big deal!"
He'll pressure you to do stuff you don't want all the time, be it during sex, or drugs and alcohol.
He'll absolutely tell you what to wear and burn/throw stuff away that he doesn't like. That same goes for your other belongings, too. Sometimes he'll do it just for the fuck of it.
He can apologize, but only if he thinks he'll get something out of it or shut you up.
Gaslighting, all the damn time. You'll question whether the sky is actually blue or not, or if you're actually colorblind after a month of being together.
He loves manipulating you for shits and giggles, and dehumanizes you all the time as if you're a toy that would never break.
He would blackmail you if you do try to leave him. Those videos and photos he took of you aren't just fap material, you know? They might get leaked if you aren't careful!
When you're on good terms, he'll shower you with gifts and compliments. Other times, expect to get slapped around and be told how much of a bitch you are after everything he did for you.
He's lustful and horny all the time, so he'll want to do it all the time, too. No matter the time or place. Which means, if you refuse, he won't care if he has to use a little bit of force either. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for consent, after all.
He'll cheat a lot, too. He doesn't really see it as a big deal.
-VOX-
He'll stalk your every move the moment you guys start dating. From the texts/calls from your phone to the CCTVs on the street, he'll watch you all the time without you knowing. Not necessarily to catch you red-handed or anything, he just likes to keep an eye on what is his.
He's egotistic, theatrical, and exploitative. These aspects of him are usually reserved for his employees and coworkers, at least the worst parts of it, but you get the short end of the stick from time to time, too.
Actually, only you, Valentino, and Velvette know how much of a loser he's sometimes. Like, how the hell did this man have his own cult?
Whenever he thinks your relationship is getting rocky, he'll get clingy as fuck and will want reassurances every couple of sentences, and even that won't be enough.
He thrives on compliments. Holy shit, do it just right and he'll do -almost- anything you want.
Unfortunately, he's into that "Alpha Male" bullshit and would most likely watch videos like that, too.
He makes it easy to trust him, but he can be really cruel and full of spite if things go south.
Even if you don't want him to do something, he'll keep doing that shit behind your back, and if he gets caught, he'll push Valentino or Velvette under the bus.
He'll also have a lot of late-night "meetings" with Valentino.
He'll put you down in front of others if he thinks it'll make him look more manly and in power. No, he ain't saying sorry, either.
He likes to touch. All the time. He'll grab your shoulders, hold your hand, and put an arm around your waist if you're in the same room. As long as he has some kind of contact with you.
He can be very condescending sometimes, like you are actually too stupid to understand or know something. It will drive you up the wall.
He'll talk over you all the time. He just loves to hear his own damn voice.
If you try to break up with him, he'll actually start a smear campaign and talk shit about you all over different types of media. Like, holy shit, the rest of hell doesn't even give a shit about you two, but he'll make it everyone's problem regardless. He's that childish and petty.
That beef will continue for decades. Don't think you can just wait for him to forget you because that's not happening. One glance at you, and he's on the TV again, talking shit. Alastor is the living proof of that.
If you were to want to take him back, however, he would actually fall back into your arms then and there if you really had that connection.
He still thinks he's better than you/above you all the same, though. He will threaten you, and you won't know if he's actually being serious or not because he'll be "remorseful" a day after or so, or act like it was a joke right after.
He rarely apologizes, if ever. He would rather act as if nothing happened and avoid the problem altogether than actually talk about the problem.
He'll never ever accept that he's the problem or that he needs to work on some stuff..
-VELVETTE-
Your life will revolve around social media after getting together with her. She'll take selfies, post relationship status, hashtag you on some shit, and do livestreams all the time. She's obsessed with her online presence, and you either adapt to that or fuck off.
She's very patronizing, authoritative, manipulative, and selfish. If it means she'll get the thing she wants, you'll burn, too.
She is a playful, ruthless, and smooth businesswoman, and she won't go down on your level, so if you want to be with her, you'll have to rise up, be it in terms of social status, followers, business, or fashion sense.
She can get very selfish and will ghost you when you fight. Either that, or scream until your ears bleed, or just downright attack you.
She will dress you according to her own tastes. Sometimes it will be even a couple of costumes. You have to be stylish to be with her because, duh, you're dating THE Velvette! How else is she going to promote her business?
She's either really busy with her fashion company, pumping up new trends every single day, or is very active on her social media. This means she can get very distant and negligent.
She's very materialistic, so she'll expect you to get her gifts often. Why else would you date?
Even if she does love you, she will have no problem abandoning and betraying you to have fame and relevancy.
She craves attention, and if you don't give it to her, she'll just find someone else to replace you.
She is extremely loyal to Vox and Valentino, willingly covering up all of their horrible crimes and always promoting them, which means if you cross the two, you'll likely be kicked to the curb.
When you anger her, she'll get very cruel and taunt you in every way possible, if she doesn't outright abuse you physically, like controlling you like a puppet or pinning you to the wall.
She loves engaging in turf wars, which means your life will be in danger pretty often. Especially so since you're her partner, and many people want to get back at her.
Most of the cruel stuff she does doesn't even have anything to do with the Vees or their goals; she just likes to be sadistic and sees it as fun.
She'll purposely push your buttons and do "pranks" to get under your skin.
Other hobbies of hers are cyberbullying, canceling people, blackmailing, creating hate campaigns, spreading misinformation, selling deepfake videos of people who crossed her, and surfing on the dark web.
So, suffice to say, if you do break up with her, she'll make your life a living hell and wish that you died a second time, but you could always wait for her to break up with you which will happen at some point because, just like clothes, she can't be seen with the same person for too long, you know? Her followers need new blood!
This request just has been spiralling throughout my weird little brain today
All of the Vees x shy assistant reader where they learn they didn't have the best life when they were alive (For example they never had a spa day, Went to the cinema, Never tried ice cream etc due to their parents treating their older sibling) and its all of them sharing a single thought between them saying spoil the reader, Enjoying their flustered reaction.
Love your writing btw! ✨💎
Good news: I have landed home 😛 AND doing some more requests!! BUT I cannot reply to my DMS because it says none of them will send. How do I fix this :(( ANYWAY I love this idea, so so cute. ENJOYY!!?
Your first time(s)
vees x shy assistant reader
Summary - The three Vees (Vox, Velvette, and Valentino) from Hazbin Hotel discover that their shy female assistant never experienced simple joys like spa days, cinema visits, or eating ice cream during her mortal life because her parents favored her older sibling. Sharing a single synchronized thought—“spoil the reader”—they immediately take her on a luxurious evening of pampering: a full spa treatment, a private movie screening, and an extravagant ice cream tasting. Throughout the night, they shower her with affectionate teasing, gentle touches, and overwhelming care, thoroughly enjoying her constant flustered blushes and shy reactions while vowing to make up for every missed experience in her afterlife.
You sit at the oversized glass desk in the V Tower’s private lounge, the one reserved for “executive brainstorming” that usually just means Vox barking orders while Velvette scrolls through her phone and Valentino lounges across three cushions like he owns gravity itself. Your fingers tremble slightly as you sort through the stack of soul contracts, the tip of your pen scratching nervously against the paper. The massive wall-screen behind you is playing a looping ad reel—bright, garish, Hell’s idea of luxury: a neon-lit spa where imps get massaged with hellfire oils, a velvet-rope cinema showing the latest VoxTek blockbuster, and a close-up of a triple-scoop sundae dripping with sinfully sweet toppings. You can’t help the tiny, wistful sigh that escapes you.
Vox’s flat-screen head swivels with a soft mechanical whirr, red pupils narrowing in that way that always makes your stomach flip. “Hey, assistant. You’ve been staring at that ad reel like it personally insulted your bloodline. Spill.”
You freeze, cheeks already warming. “I—it’s nothing, sir. Really. I just… never had any of that stuff. Up top. When I was alive.”
Velvette looks up from her phone so fast her twin buns bounce. “Come again, love? You’re telling me you never—”
Valentino cuts in, voice a low, smoky purr laced with that lazy Spanish lilt he only pulls out when he’s genuinely interested. “Never what, cariño? Never got pampered? Never sat in the dark with popcorn and a pretty boy or girl? Never licked ice cream off a spoon until it melted on your tongue?” He leans forward, gold teeth flashing. “Details. Now.”
Your face burns hotter. You clutch the contract folder like a shield, voice barely above a whisper. “My parents… they only ever did nice things for my older sibling. Said I was ‘fine as I was.’ No birthdays at the movies. No spa days—my sister got the mani-pedis and I got the hand-me-down chores. Ice cream? Only if there were leftovers after she finished hers. I just… never got to do the silly little things everyone else did. It’s stupid. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop.” The word comes from all three of them at once, sharp and synchronized, like they’d rehearsed it. Their eyes meet across the room—Vox’s screen flickering with a single shared glitch of realization, Velvette’s smirk sharpening, Valentino’s wings rustling with sudden purpose. You don’t hear the thought aloud, but it’s written so clearly on every face it might as well be shouted through the Vees’ private network: Spoil the reader. Now.
Vox is the first to speak, leaning back in his ergonomic throne with a grin that could short-circuit half of Pentagram City. “Stupid? Darling, the only stupid thing here is that you’ve been our assistant for months and we didn’t know you were walking around with a human-life deficit this criminal. We’re fixing that. Tonight.”
Velvette hops off the couch, heels clicking like tiny gunshots. She circles your chair, one manicured finger tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet her sharp, glittering eyes. “Oi, shy girl. You think we’re letting our favorite little wallflower go another second without proper spoiling? Absolutely not. First up—ice cream. The good shit. Vox, queue the private theater. Val, you’re on flavor selection. And you—” she boops your nose, making you squeak “—are going to sit there looking all flustered and adorable while we make up for every missed sundae your shitty parents denied you.”
You squeak again, louder, burying your face in the folder. “Y-you don’t have to—”
“Oh, but we want to,” Valentino drawls, rising in one fluid motion. His tall frame casts a dramatic shadow over you as he plucks the contracts from your hands and sets them aside like they’re yesterday’s trash. “Mi princesita, you’re trembling already and we haven’t even started. I love that. Look at her blush, Voxxy—she’s turning the exact shade of my favorite lingerie.”
Vox chuckles, static crackling through his voice. “Cute. Real cute. Come on, assistant. Up. We’re not taking no for an answer.” He offers a gloved hand, the claws gentle despite their sharpness. When you hesitate, he adds softly, “Hey. You take care of our schedules, our tantrums, our entire empire without complaining. Let us take care of you for once. One night. Then we’ll negotiate the rest of your life.”
Your heart stutters so hard you’re sure they can hear it. You take his hand anyway, legs shaky as they herd you toward the private elevator that only the Vees (and now, apparently, you) have access to.
The ride down is filled with overlapping voices.
Velvette: “Right, first stop—my personal spa wing. I’ve got the new hellfire mud masks that make your skin glow like you swallowed a star. You’re getting the full VIP package: massage, facial, the works. And if you try to hide behind your hands the whole time, I’m pinning them down myself.”
Valentino: “After that, cinema. I picked the softest rom-com in the VoxTek vault—one with zero explosions so you don’t flinch. Private box, bottomless popcorn, those little chocolate things you mortals used to faint over. I’ll even let you pick the seat. Middle? Corner? Lap? Your choice, baby.”
Vox: “And the grand finale—ice cream parlor I had built last year just because I could. Three stories of every flavor that ever existed plus the ones Hell invented. You’re trying at least ten. I want to watch your face when the cold hits your tongue for the first time. That little surprised ‘oh’ you do? Yeah. We’re collecting those reactions like trading cards.”
You’re already a mess by the time the elevator doors open into Velvette’s glittering spa. The air smells like vanilla and something sinfully floral. Soft music hums from hidden speakers. Three attendants—handpicked imps who know better than to stare—bow and vanish the second the Vees wave them off.
Velvette pushes you gently onto a plush massage table, already peeling off your blazer with efficient little tugs. “Arms up, love. Robe on. No arguing. You’ve never had someone rub the tension out of your shoulders? Tragic. I’m fixing that right now.” She ties the robe herself, fingers brushing your collarbones on purpose. “There. Look at you—pink as a sinner’s first blush. Adorable.”
You hide your face in the pillow as the masseuse starts, but Valentino perches on the edge of the table, long fingers tracing idle circles on your wrist. “Relax, cariño. Feel that? That’s what you missed every single day up top. Let it sink in. And when you’re done, I’m feeding you the first spoonful of ice cream myself if you get too shy to pick your own flavor.”
Vox leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, screen displaying a looping heart-eye emoji just for you. “You’re doing so good already. One hour in and you haven’t bolted. Progress. I’m proud of my shy little assistant.”
By the time they shuffle you—still in the fluffy robe, hair slightly damp and smelling like heaven—into the private cinema, you’re dizzy with it all. The lights dim. Velvette curls up on your left, tossing a blanket over your lap and tucking it around you like you’re made of glass. “Comfy? Good. If you cry at the happy ending I’m pretending I didn’t see it… but I’m absolutely filming it for the group chat.”
Valentino claims your right side, one wing draping over your shoulders like a living stole. “Popcorn?” He holds a perfectly buttered kernel to your lips, eyes half-lidded. “Open up, princess. First bite of cinema magic. Savour it.”
You do. The salt and butter explodes on your tongue and you can’t stop the tiny, involuntary “mmh” that escapes. All three of them coo at once.
Vox, from the seat directly behind so he can lean over and murmur in your ear: “There it is. That sound. We’re keeping score, you know. Every flustered noise, every blush—we’re collecting them. You’re never going back to ‘never had this’ again.”
The movie ends with you dabbing at your eyes, mortified. Velvette wipes your cheek with her thumb, grinning. “Crying already? We haven’t even hit the ice cream yet. You’re so easy to spoil, it’s unfair. I love it.”
The ice-cream parlor is the final blow to your composure. It’s a three-story wonderland of pastel neon and glass cases filled with every conceivable flavor. The Vees don’t let you choose a table—they pick the biggest booth and sit you in the middle like the centerpiece you apparently are now.
Valentino slides in first, pulling you onto his lap with zero warning. “Easier to feed you this way, mi amor. Ten flavors, remember? Start with the classic—vanilla bean with hot fudge. Open.”
You open your mouth, trembling, and the cold sweetness hits. Your eyes flutter shut on instinct. A tiny whimper slips out.
Velvette, across the table with her own triple scoop, nearly drops her spoon. “Oh my god, that noise. Vox, did you catch that? Record it. We’re making it her new ringtone.”
Vox, filming shamelessly with one claw, laughs low and fond. “Already did. Look at her—ears red, hands shaking, trying so hard to stay professional. Darling, you’re off the clock. You’re allowed to enjoy this. In fact, we demand it.”
You swallow, voice a mortified squeak. “I—I can’t believe you’re doing all this just because I said—”
“Just because?” Valentino nuzzles your temple, voice dropping to that dangerous velvet. “Baby, you spent your whole mortal life in the background while someone else got the spotlight. Now we’re the spotlight, and it’s pointed right at you. Every missed spa day, every skipped movie night, every melted ice cream you never got—we’re replacing them all. Double. Triple. Until you’re so spoiled you forget what ‘neglected’ even means.”
Velvette reaches across to steal a spoonful from your sundae and feeds it to you herself. “And when you get all flustered and start hiding your face again? We’re going to tease you mercilessly… and then do it all over tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. Because you’re ours to spoil now.”
Vox’s screen flickers with soft static hearts as he leans in, voice warm against your other ear. “Single thought we all had the second you told us? Spoil the reader. And we’re damn good at following through. So sit back, eat your ice cream, and let us watch every pretty blush. That’s an order from all three of your bosses.”
You hide your flaming face in Valentino’s chest, but you’re smiling so wide it hurts. Their laughter—overlapping, fond, greedy—wraps around you tighter than any blanket.
“Welcome to the rest of your afterlife, shy girl,” Velvette says, licking fudge off her thumb. “We’re just getting started.”
