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wordsvomit101 · 29 days

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That awkward moment when you realized that your big bro got laid with the person you tried to kill.

Author Notes: Credits to @eternal_auditor & @jazeswhbhaven, I got this idea for this shameless worldbuilding headcanons for Heaven and Angels thanks to both of them and the latter's "Angel Bros Headcanons: Michael Flips" post. I also just want to write the scenario in general. Warnings: Raphael is a caution flag himself, depictions of violence, thoughts of brutalizing and eating someone (being directed at MC) by Raphael, a lot of name-calling from Raphael directed at MC

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(Heaven - Time of Councils and Assemblies)

In the tranquil embrace of Heaven, evening descends like a gentle caress, casting a soft golden hue upon the timeless realm. As the radiant sun dips below the horizon of ethereal clouds, the celestial landscape is bathed in hues of pink, orange, and purple, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors that stretches across the vast expanse of the heavenly domain. The sky is like a canvas painted lovingly by the hands of God, with the colors of a thousand sunsets, each stroke a masterpiece of divine artistry. The clouds, like celestial brushstrokes, dance across the canvas, their forms ever-changing, their edges illuminated with an ethereal glow.

Amidst the celestial splendor, angelic beings gracefully glide through the sky upon the archways of purest gold span the thoroughfares of Heaven, their graceful curves reminiscent of angelic wings in flight. Beneath these archways lie crystal atriums, their transparent walls revealing the celestial wonders of Heaven in all their resplendent glory. Their iridescent wings shimmer with divine light, flying gracefully as if they dance and pirouette in ethereal ballets, painting radiant trails of luminescence across the sky.

The lower-ranking angels engage in celestial chorales, their melodious voices intertwining in harmonies that resonate throughout the Heaven. The soaring soprano of archangels blends seamlessly with the velvety alto of cherubim, weaving a symphony that would uplift the soul and transport the listener to realms of pure bliss. The music reverberates through the celestial expanse, like a cosmic symphony conducted to worship the Almighty.

For middle-ranking angels, their beloved duty during the Pilgrimage to the Mount of Revelation to commune with their dear creator has to be despairingly pushed to merely Contemplation of Sacred Texts and attending to the Halls of Eternal Wisdom, a lesser, but an honorable duty nonetheless.

Even higher above, amidst ethereal spires and resplendent palaces that grace the heavenly expanse, angelic artisans toil diligently within the Halls of Artistry. Their deft hands sculpt magnificent statues and weave intricate tapestries, each a testament to the wonders of creation. They yearn for the day when their divine creator will bestow upon them a glimpse of their artistry, even a millisecond of recognition for their unwavering dedication to him would be more than enough.

While other angels tend to the flourishing celestial flora in the Gardens of Eternal Bliss. Radiant blooms burst forth in a splendor of colors, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence. The angels nurture these heavenly gardens with love and care, a single damage to a petal of these beautiful flowers is enough to have their heads roll to the disgusting pit of Hell, however making a mistake in God's favorite garden is an even bigger sin.

It is a mundane day for all of them.

Bang!

"Sir-!"

Creak!

"AAAAAA-!"

Crunch!

"I have yet to finish my prayer-!"

Snap!

However, it wouldn't be a normal day if there wasn't a Raphael brutally tearing and eating fleshes of every angel on his path to the Chamber of Divine Counsel to meet with other Seraphs. His blood-caked shoes thundering over polished marble as he swaggers through the vaulted corridors of Heaven, his crimson-smeared wings unfurling like banners of carnage. Red marred his short blonde hair and white attire. With each wrathful step, he leaves a trail of dismembered angel carcasses, their alabaster feathers floating like ethereal snowflakes in his wake. His crimson eye fully emits an aura of violence and fury.

Thump!

Bursting into the Chamber of Divine Counsel with enough force to make the office tremble, the room was bathed in an ethereal glow, and the other Seraphs present, Gabriel and Michael, sat in their resplendent chairs, their expressions inscrutable. Raphael's form, however, drenched in the gore of his victims, stood in stark contrast to the pristine surroundings. He only has one thought of personally feasting upon that purple hair wench's flesh when she is still alive and making her watch herself being devoured alive and cut off her tongue so she couldn't even voice out her pain.

"Why... Why is it always her...! That bitch!"

The pure white chairs, crafted from the finest celestial ivory, bore the brunt of his rage, splintering and crumbling under his kicks. Yet Gabriel and Michael, their faces devoid of emotion, paid him little attention.

"If you insist on throwing a tantrum, I implore you to do so in a realm more suited to such sorrowful displays. Hell would accommodate your temperaments more appropriately."

Michael stood tall over the intricately designed long table with a mindmap and countless brainstorming notes. Standing in a place Brother Lucifer used to stand in each council meeting. His glare locked on the furious blonde seraph before him. A frown, as if carved in stone, creased his handsome face, adding an air of solemnity to his prideful demeanor. Around his neck, a regal purple choker, embellished with ornate gold rings and shimmering gemstones, encircled his throat. At its center, a prominent gold ring held a solemn cross pendant, its gentle clinking accompanying his every movement.

In a swift motion, Michael tilted his head to the left, displaying effortless grace as he dodged the flying chair hurtling towards him at high speed. The chair collided with the wall, its impact leaving a deep dent in the panel, a testament to the force behind the throw.

"Shut that shitty mouth of yours! Maybe try to go down there yourself to ask why our dear brother is entertaining trash!" As Raphael spoke, his voice trembled with anger and frustration, his words dripping with venomous accusation. A few veins already popped on his crazed, striking appearance. Filled with unrepressed anger that led him to kill his spies who reported to him and fly from the dungeon up here.

Yet Michael continued to look at his notes, his face blissfully indifferent. His right hand continued to write on many of his papers on the white table.

"He has simply strayed from the right path."

Brother Lucifer’s footstep-less feet headed for the vile tiny red devil.

'Stop it.'

However, he couldn't say the same about his head. Memories he had been trying to wipe from his mind for years served only to haunt him. Taunting him of the gut-wrenching event more than a hundred years ago.

In the silence, pure white hands pushed through the grass and preciously held up the rotten red thing.

'Don't dirty your hands.'

His brother stroked that thing's body so softly with his hands so similar to how he once did with Michael's face. Those strong, beautiful hands that once held his face so tenderly to wipe his tears away. As he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

'Brother...'

"I remain confident in my ability to guide him back to the right path."

His brother's hand was holding Michael’s ray of light. The light in Brother Lucifer’s hand had stopped in front of the disgusting beast's chest, unable to advance further. He was again protecting worthless things that didn't deserve his grace.

'Why did you save it?!'

When his brother finally stood before Michael on his third step, black energy, not white, began to flow from his body.

'No-NononononoNONO-'

From his beloved brother’s head, the gorgeous head of the Morning Star, bright red horns that were the same color as the vile thing that tempted him began to grow.

'Brother- Brother Lucifer please!'

"You shall witness it in due time."

"I love you, my brother. Which is why I will give you one last chance. Return."

Crack!

The force of Michael's left hand left a massive crack in the opulent crystal marble table that trailed down to the other end of it. Effectively bringing clarity back to Raphael as the blonde gazes at Michael's hard knuckle gripping the table painfully, ignoring the blood pooling down to the marble floor and further dirtying the former pristine chamber.

Michael's abrupt actions were met with an air of knowing silence from the two. It wouldn't be far-fetched if they possessed a secret understanding of his motivations that would elude outsiders.

"Hmph," a scoff rang out and pierced the silence of the room, originating from the slender man with platinum blonde hair seated to Michael's right. His face, though classically handsome with a pale complexion, remained stoic and emotionless, belying the arrogance that dripped from the single syllable he uttered.

"Then you better live up to those words."

Gabriel's lean was a graceful movement, his body sinking into the chair as if it were a throne. His arms crossed over his chest, the crisp white of his shirt contrasting sharply with the gleam of the gold chain that adorned his white jabot ruffle shirt. The fabric of his sleeves rustled softly against the delicate filigree, creating a symphony of subtle sounds that echoed through the silent room. His eyes, deep and enigmatic, surveyed the scene before him, his expression a mixture of amusement and quiet contemplation.

"Furthermore, even in his current state, Brother Lucifer still demonstrates a reverence for God. It is conceivable that his actions are merely a symptom of his yearning for God's divine presence."

In this timeless realm, where Gabriel proudly proclaims to reign supreme as the epitome of seraphic obedience, there exists but one for whom he would willingly surrender his esteemed position: Brother Lucifer. The firstborn of God's creations, Brother Lucifer's devotion to his Maker surpassed all others, earning him the title of Morning Star. His brilliance illuminated the heavens, casting an unrivaled radiance that even Gabriel's wings could not obscure.

It was Brother Lucifer who instilled within the celestial choirs the rituals and observances that expressed their gratitude to the Almighty. Yet amidst his unwavering piety, Brother Lucifer adhered to a solitary discipline known only to himself. Only a select few had glimpsed this secret regimen, elusive even to those who had followed his every step for countless eons.

Solitary would not be said without Brother Lucifer's name being attached to the word. He found solace in his own construction of hallowed sanctuaries. These Majestic Temples of Worship at odd places in Heaven served as his solitary refuge, where he could commune with the divine without the distractions of others. His devotion ignited a spark in other angels, who, inspired by his example, crafted Halls of Artistry. They sculpted countless colossal statues of the Almighty, their grandeur exceeding the limits of mortal imagination.

No one dared step one foot into his havens, they were for Brother Lucifer alone, and death would be upon those who broke that unspoken rule.

Yet there were times he allowed Gabriel to join him during Celestial Meditation in the secluded Garden of Eternal Reflection, a sacred sanctuary hidden deep within the heart of Heaven. Here, amidst the fragrant blossoms and tranquil pools, Brother Lucifer let Gabriel join his silent meditation and prayers. It was one of the highlights of Gabriel's day when his brother was still around.

"Not if he is messing with the descendant of Solomon."

Raphael's voice now had the former rage in it that reminded him of what he came here for, to be in these two insufferable presences. He could barely believe it when one of his spies uttered those words out of their useless mouth. That Lucifer? The Morning Star? His brother who despises Solomon as much as any other angel and the one that would bite another head off if they recklessly touched him even in the rendezvous night at the sacred Eternal Flame at the heart of Heaven where they allowed themselves to let loose for a bit?

It sounds fucking unbelievable, but when they show him a picture of that purple-haired vixen bumping parts with his brother, it sends him off the reels. He kills most of the spies and storms out of his favorite dungeon to here.

"Pardon?" Michael's mismatched eyes bulged, his neck creaking and twitching as he stared up at Raphael in a frenzy of incomprehension, his falsely composed display gone. The mere hint of the truth was liable to send the black-haired Seraph into a rampage and murder them all.

"Are you suggesting..." Gabriel's face, previously etched in stoicism, crumbled into a mask of horror. He couldn't believe the words that had escaped Raphael's lips, but he couldn't shake the realization that was slowly creeping upon him. He desperately wished that the words that came out of Raphael's mouth were nothing more than a cruel jest, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

"I said, he's with the descendant of Solomon, that purple-haired harlot...that traitor....that cheat- That tempting trash!"

It pissed Raphael off even more as he raised his voice volume, veins now appearing on his throat, especially at the reminder of his text with that two-timer. The sheer self-satisfied energy radiating off his phone screen almost makes him fly down to Hell to choke that bitch until her brain pops out of her head himself.

"This is preposterous...impossible..." Michael's jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with disbelief as Raphael's accusations cut through the air like a madman who had just been cheated on. His normally steady stance faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of hysteria that made his body tremble. He stumbled backward, his back colliding with the cold, unforgiving wall as if seeking solace from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to consume him. The wall provided no comfort, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the turmoil raging through his body.

"I'm not joking. I heard her talking about Lucifer, his scar, his... 'thing'," The mere mention of his beloved brother's private part sends shivers down his spine as his voice quivered. The thought of that conniving bitch taking full advantage of the trust Brother Lucifer had placed in her made his blood boil with simmering rage. And that she dared to go against her promise to him as if those moments they shared in the poisonous sky of Hell meant nothing.

"She knows his exact measurements!- You know what, look at this shit yourself!" With a resounding slam that echoed through the room like a thunderclap, he unveiled the damning evidence: a collection of photographs frozen in time, capturing moments of intimate interaction between Lucifer and the individual in question.

The images fell upon the table with a heavy thud, causing the fragile surface to tremble under the weight of their revelation. Despite the force of impact that threatened to shatter the fragile table beneath them, the pictures remained intact, their unspoken truth radiating from their glossy surfaces like a painful revelation begging to be acknowledged.

Michael's face contorted with a ghastly twitch as if he were attempting to conjure laughter, but the sound that escaped his lips was more akin to a hollow echo in the thick, suffocating atmosphere. "Shut up," his mind struggled to piece together the unthinkable truth that lay sprawled before him like a macabre revelation. Denial, a feeble shield against the onslaught of evidence, crumbled before the weight of reality, leaving him quaking.

"I swear before Thrones of Heavenly Majesty I will make her rue the day she even touched him. She corrupted him and brought him over to the side of temptation. God would never-" As Gabriel's solemn vow echoed through the room, the air crackled with the intensity of his conviction, thick with the gravity of impending retribution for the sinner.

His words struck a nerve, exacerbating Michael's fraying composure. The gravity of the situation bore down upon him like a suffocating weight, his anger bubbling to the surface in fervor.

"FUCKING SHUT UP! IT'S NOT REAL! IT'S NOT REAL!" Michael's voice cracked with anguish and insanity, his outburst sending shockwaves through the chamber. In his distress, the chamber was engulfed in an inferno, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the walls. In the distance, the echo of Michael's despair mingled with the desperate prayers and curses of those trapped within the blazing office. The once-orderly chamber had become a scene of utter chaos and destruction.

"O, Almighty Creator," Gabriel's voice trembled with urgency, his words a fervent entreaty to the absent God above. "Grant us clarity in this hour of darkness, illuminate our path with Your divine light."

Meanwhile, Gabriel's attempts at prayer offered little solace as he grappled with the implications of Raphael's revelations.

His murmurs grew more frantic with each passing moment, a desperate attempt to find solace in the face of unsettling truths. "Guide us through this tempest, O Lord, for we are adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Let Your wisdom be our compass, and Your mercy our salvation."

But despite his fervent appeals, only shrieks and flames answer back, echoing throughout Heaven from the burning chamber they're in.

"She said she'd only do that with me..." Raphael’s voice cracked with bitterness, each word laced with venomous resentment. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the seething anger threatening to consume him whole. "...she lied...she lied..."

The weight of betrayal hung heavy in his heart, suffocating him with its oppressive presence. Raphael's chest heaved with each labored breath, his heart aching with the sting of betrayal. "Fucking cheater..." His words dripped with venom, the bitterness of betrayal poisoning his soul.

With a primal snarl, Raphael's control shattered like glass, shards of rage cutting deep into his consciousness. He lashed out blindly, his teeth sinking into the flesh of a passing stupidly brave angel that came to check on the three Seraphs, the taste of blood a bitter reminder of his own foolishness.

"I hate her..." The words escaped his lips in a guttural growl, each syllable dripping with raw fury. His grip tightened around the angel's trembling form, nails digging into flesh as he sought to vent his pent-up rage on an unwitting victim.

"I'm not sloppy seconds..." Raphael's voice cracked with rage, his crimson eyes ablaze like a firestorm. He tore into the angel's flesh with savage ferocity, his actions a grotesque display of his inner turmoil. "...I'm no side bitch!"

Boom!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Hm?", in the dim recesses of his grandiose office, Lucifer, who was engrossed in his craftsmanship of carving the statue of the divine, lifted his gaze from his artistic endeavor by the sudden but subtle yet discernible disturbance in the island above the sky of Hell.

His pure white eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Despite the plaster and pigments that adorned his once-pristine garments save for his bloody back that had his broken wings. His form radiated a timeless beauty, marred only by the grim expression on his handsome visage.

The sensation he felt was like a creeping up from above, like a ripple in the placid waters of a celestial lake.

'What are those three getting angry at right now?'

Raon, who was perched upon the plush velvet couch that adorned his office, her tall form immersed in the pages of an ancient tome, looked up swiftly at Lucifer's voice, a rare occurrence after hours of silence.

Once she raised her gaze from the text, her curious eyes meeting Lucifer's form with silent inquiry. Normally, she would wait until Lucifer is willing to tell her what is on his mind, but currently, she is bored and needs a break after reading several magic grimoires Lucifer gave her and practicing with them for almost a whole day.

'Let's just hope he will at least give me a short answer.'

"Um, Lucifer, is there something wrong?" Raon's voice, soft and tentative, carried a note of concern as she awaited his response, her gaze fixed unwaveringly upon him.

Lucifer's answer was measured, his words carrying the weight of foreboding. "I feel there's a disturbance. There would be a storm soon," he left out the part that it was most likely his brothers being angry about something again.

"Is it related to the angels?" Yet the young woman still managed to catch onto the hidden message, her question not directed at ordinary angels but at his brothers as she nervously tightened her grip on her grimoire.

Lucifer nodded solemnly. "Very likely," he confirmed. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon but his voice relaxed to ease the lady's tension as he contemplated the unfolding events in the celestial realm.

"Oh, then I will get back to my training-", with a subtle shift of his form, he turned his attention back to Raon, his gaze meeting hers with a serene intensity as he stood up to clean himself with a swipe of his finger. He tidied himself with a cleaning spell and put his tools and statues back into their orderly places without doing so himself physically—a casual display of his magic that Raon wishes to get to one day.

"It's fine," Lucifer assured her, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's take a rest. Care to join me for a walk to the observatory room?" Quietly, he held out his right arm for her to hold on to if she wanted to accompany him.

Raon's heart fluttered at the invitation, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to contain her excitement. "Really? I-I mean, of course! Please lead the way." Her words spilled forth in a rush of eagerness, her eyes shining with anticipation as she rose from her seat and she excitedly but carefully walked over to Lucifer's spot.

As Raon raised her gaze, a silent query lingering in her eyes, she studied the handsome devil's countenance for the slightest hint of unease. Finding none, she shyly reached out and clasped his arm, a silent agreement passing between them. Together, they embarked on a leisurely stroll, the pace unhurried yet purposeful.

Lucifer, typically swift in his movements, slowed his steps to accommodate Raon, pausing whenever she expressed a desire to linger and marvel at the exquisite white blossoms that adorned Paradise Lost, a sight reserved only for the privileged few. The air was filled with a sense of tranquility and reverence as they meandered through the garden, each step bringing them closer to their destination, yet allowing them to savor the beauty that surrounded them. Unbothered by the chaos that is currently exploding in Heaven.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb worldbuilding #whb michael #whb gabriel #whb raphael #whb lucifer #whb mc #minors dni #these 3 are so silly/jk #i will act like the christmas event didn't happen and just let mc girlbossing in another way #let homegirl be magical #lucifer is literally God's first fan boi #guess who these three got there habits from #it would be funny if lucifer was the wild one that contain himself to be a role model to his brothers but it failed anyway #they still love him tho and that is all it matter

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sugoi-writes · 1 month

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Nun!Alastor x Reader - The Confessional - Part 1

It's 1 AM, and @st-alastors-confessional has me foaming at the mouth. I wrote this far-too-long drabble based off of the MOD's Nun Alastor. Please please enjoy!

Warning: Not proofread in the slightest, with implications of sacrilege and sinning behavior. You've been warned! I might do another part with more debauchery down the road hehe

The sermon was going swimmingly, all things considered. The Pastor and Priest, St. Vox, lead with a soulful, boisterous tone. Albeit, he had always led his sermons with a strong, charismatic energy. He left the congregation absolutely enraptured, waiting on hand and foot for him to speak again.... You, another sinner among the crowd, tried to absorb what you could from his ravings and ramblings.

Clearly, when you wound up in Hell... you found out the hard way that God was, indeed, real. You had long been a on-Christian, and even if you still weren't... you couldn't look the facts in the face and say they weren't true. It was a simple notion:

God was real. You were not a loyal believer. You did a bad thing or two, and now you're in a church in the heart of the Pentagram, seeking answers.

You were hoping to find a way to get into Heaven... St. Vox's approach was very traditional, almost 'Dark Ages' approach. A phrase you heard once or twice rung through your mind, clear as the morning church bells:

" When a coin in the coffer rings, a soul in purgatory springs..."... no, was it sings??? That, you werent sure... either way--

Many wealthier, gullible sinners would shove money towards the Church, desperate to buy their way out of Hell. The more meek, kind hearted sinners would often throw money to the offering plates to prevent their love ones from suffering the same fate... Whether their monetary sacrifices were successful or not... well, that's yet to be seen. And no one truly know where that money goes...

And so you searched and listened in the pews patiently, hoping that something would reveal itself to you... Would living justly get you out of here? Would denouncing sin in its entirety get you the ticket out of this hellhole? Hell, did you need to declare yourself celibate? You certainly wouldn't be opposed, after some of the shit you saw on Day One...

In all honestly, you'd be willing to throw a few dollars in the pot on the off chance your gut was wrong about St. Vox's approach. As you know, your intuition had led you astray before...

You were five Sundays deep in this contrived drivel, and yet, you still had questions... The questions that plagued your mind could only be answered by the Priest, ideally during Confessional tonight... But, as you tried your best to stay awake through another biblical tangent, you were startled by a choral uproar. The choir, made entirely of clergy, was the closest thing to Heavenly that they, or any sinner, could hear in Hell.

Honest efforts were being made to sing the hymns and profess the Gospel accurately. The pitches and incantations were perfectly admirable, even enjoyable... and surprisingly, all of this was all done in Latin. It was nearly enough to raise goosebumps across your flesh, your senses pleased by the perfect, harmonious progressions.

One among the nuns who sung, with strong, crimson features, met your gaze in the middle of the refrain. You felt the gaze burrowing into you deeper, trembling subconscious as the song made you sway along.

A pointed, yellowed smile graced your eyes as the deer demon sang along. The overall tone of the higher melodic line had felt like cashmere; it was refined and soft due to their(?) unique voice texture. It was a tone that you felt was familiar... a comforting one. You couldnt put your tongue on it, squinting slightly at the demure nun. They(?) seemed to notice your infatuation, their hands folding neatly together and clasping a fine, ornate rosary. Their hands were elegant, long and thin, reminding you of a Royal... surely, those hands were used for more than empty prayer?

You felt your mind run to impurities and sin almost instantly, panicking as you tore your sight away from the Nun. You felt your throat running dry as you shook your head in shock. You couldn't be thinking this way about a nun-- a NUN? Quite literally, a celibate being, devoted to God and His work. This felt... wrong. So wrong, even for a sinner like you.

Your legs brushed tightly against one another, hoping to stiffle the feeling that pooled in your core. You watched the way that the Nun's chest rose and fell, how the angular jaw was complimented by the small, bobbed tufts that framed it. Your eyes became lost in the visual stimuli as you pondered just how demure and sweet this Nun must have looked under the habit...

You bite the inside of your cheek as you felt the Nun's eyes still looking to you, as if they KNEW exactly what you were thinking. 'If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I might catch a cold,' your mind mimicked in their voice.

You felt indecent, completely exposed to someone who you should be regarding as an example of purity and devotion...

As the hymn finally concluded, the Priest dismissed the clergy. He was swiftly wrapping things up as the coffers and offering plates made their rounds around the room. The nuns assisted, coming row by row to collect generous donations and desperate offerings. You felt yourself stiffen as you noticed the red and black demon making their way closer to you, voice teeming with a startling sweetness.

"Blessings unto you, dear Sinner. Many thanks. ...Blessings unto you, dear. How has your mother been fairing--?"

As the velvety voice grew closer to you, you felt yourself unable to move, paralyzed with fear. What if they knew you were lusting over them so superficially? Would they be able to tell?

You nearly fell into the aisle as a sinner slammed into you from behind, thrusting money towards the chaste nun," Pl-Please!!!! Please, this is all that I have!!! Sister Alastor, Sister Alastor!!! Bless me!!! Bless me, Sister!!!"

The Demon nun took pause at your row, noticing you struggling under the weight of the sinner on top of you. Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed shut, unable to expand in their efforts. You pushed with all of your might, eyes closed as you fought back," W-Watch it, you f-- Ugh, you putrid FUCK!!! Get off me!!!"

Swiftly, Sister Alastor's hand was on the neck of the sinner, squeezing tightly as he gasped and gurgled. The nun simply smiled, head tilted," Dear sinner! Your penance is null and void if you cast discomfort and pain upon thine neighbor!" The nun's neck practically snapped at velocity they cocked their head up, looking downcast at the panicking demon. Unable to look up, you missed the smile Alastor wore, threatening to tear the demonic face of the nun in two.

"Take your vile hands and cast them into the River Styx... for your blood money is not welcome in these halls... Now leave this scared place. "

The sinner gasps, coughing and sputtering as he scrambles away, causing you to fall forward out of your pew. Just when you think you're about to eat shit: two large, taloned hands delicately hold you aloft.

"Are you unharmed, little lamb?" You blink for a moment, looking up slowly... only to find Sister Alastor's face an inch from your own. You stuttered as your hot breath fanned against his face, your legs threatening to give out under you.

"Y-Yes, Im-- I'm quite alright. Thank you, Sister..." You allow Alastor to place you back onto your feet, the hands of the docile-looking demon smoothing out your outfit and brushing off imaginary debris.

"I apologize for making you intervene. Thank you-- I would've been trampled to death, were it not for you." The deer Demon's smile could have made the devil tremble... but to you, it seemed entirely sincere," Thank me not, dear Lamb. For the Lord always calls upon his disciples to help those in need." Alastor takes a step away from you, bowing their head and giving you a polite curtsy.

"Alas, I must be away. But, should you need to seek council... the Lord always has room to hear out your wayward strifes and confessions." You reach out and almost touch the Nun's habit, sheepishly blushing when you sense the farmer's flinch.

"A-Actually... will the Priest be seeing anyone for Confession tonight? I... I have concerns. Concerns I feel like he could help me through... Im troubled, and just..." Your eyes are downcast, unable to look at the devilishly handsome demon," Im... concerned about my salvation. And need advice on how better to achieve it... or, if its really too late for me now."

You feel your heart leap into your throat as the Nun's head pulls off a complete 180° spin, the body following suit a moment after. Alastor clasps both of your hands in his own, smile wide and full of glee," But of course! Our hallowed halls could never deny such an honest soul seeking the Lord's guidance!" Alastor's head grows closer to yours, voice hushing. You're forced to lean in too, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"However, he will be unable to see anyone just yet. Return at the Witching Hour... he will have an audience with you then." Your eyes widened as you smiled back, eagerly shaking the nun's hands," O-Oh thank you-- Thank you!!! I appreciate that! I'll be back soon, then. Bless you, Sister Alastor! "

You nod and bow back to the nun, who regards you evenly but warmly, before watching you leave. You did not see the smirk that spread across Alastor's face... the glint of excitement that lights up his candy red eyes.

Oh, he knows damn well that Vox will not seek an audience with you that late in the night... who best to stand in for the Priest other than himself... the Mother Superior?

His mind festers with demented excitement as you stumbled out of the church, looking like a scared, timid doe... Oh, how he would enjoy seeing you again. He would need to prepare for your visit... after all, you would be doing your fair share of confessing AND atoning for your sins... your eyes hid nothing from him. And he was going to enjoy seeing them well up with blissful tears, a wanton expression gracing your cheeks...

The click of the nun's shoes echoed as he followed the other clergy members elegantly, his face not giving anything away. Oh Lord, how you've blessed him with a most delightful pleasure... he'd be sure to repent for his indecency later.

#nun!alastor #nun alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #ahahah i tried keeping things tame but Nun Alastor makes my brain m e lt #i very much enjoy the blurssed imagery of alastor as a nun #i hope yall enjoy it too!!!#this was cranked out in one sitting so i hope this isnt SHIT AHAH

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