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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Yandere Priest x GN! Reader

Another part to my yandere supernatural harem. Masterlist here

Story has some Christian themes, but is not completely based from them

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: light body horror, character injury, briefly mentioned non consensual kiss, religious themes

Biting. Clawing. Tearing. The only thing he could remember. Talons piercing his skin, teeth on the vital arteries beneath – bursting under each individual fang. A robbery gone wrong had led this man to a fate crueler than death; a vicious beast spawned right before his eyes with a single mission in its mind, to make him feel absolute anguish. Lying on the cold earth. No one to comfort him in his final moments, unlike the person he’d harmed. Light fading-

He wakes up. The room is cold, he’s cold. He holds himself, memories flooding back to conscious mind. It felt better than where he had been moments before – anything did. He looked around the room. It looked empty, but something was there. He could feel it.

“Good evening.”

He turns. Someone stares from the shadows of the room. Bandaged hands clasp tightly over their lap, one looser than the other.

“W..who the fuck are you?”

“No need for that kind of language. I’m just here to ask a few questions. You know, when you died they said it looked like a bear had mauled you, but there isn’t any place where one could’ve come from for miles.”

He swallowed.

“But I’m not here for that. I want to know more about a friend of yours.”

A tall figure looms over you, hand gripping the blankets wrapped snugly around your body. The presence was suffocating; like said hand was slowly reaching for your neck. It instead hooks onto your blankets and tears them from your arms in one swift move.

“Good morning, Y/n!”

You groan, sitting up to meet the blank, yet bright eyed angel by your bedside. The enormous smile on his face pulls even further; meaning you had yet to rid the sleep from your eyes.

“Isn’t it like… 9:00am.”

He chuckles. “No, eight actually. Did you forget our plans for the day?”

You groan louder. A grim reaper, demon, and your very own guardian angel. Pains in your side for the majority of their stay, who’s thorns you were finally getting used to. With the couple rules you had in place already, another few had been added to the pile; namely in the comfort of your fellow housemates. One day of every weekend, each one of them would get a day without you; with the final weekend of the month being for yourself – which went about as well as one could imagine. The reaper and demon had already had their turn for the month, and so now it was the angel’s turn.

The thought had been brewing in Alasdair’s mind for a while. He had heard, and even read, of the various religions on earth; but knew little beyond average knowledge. During his time in heaven, he carried little about the human realm, until he met you; developing an interest in the cultures to benefit you both. For his day with you, he asked if you would join him in visiting a church; which you reluctantly agreed to. It was more toned down than racing shopping carts through grocery store aisles and had more to it than just relaxing on the couch – not that you really had a problem with either.

“Come on, we’ll be late if you don’t get up.” Alasdair pulls the blankets further from your grasp and helps you up. You shower and put on your Sunday best; him already ready to head out. With a formal suit and tie being eighty percent of his wardrobe, you didn’t expect him to have to do much to prepare anyway. You say your goodbyes to the other two and head out.

The building was an elegant structure. Faded white bricks made up its walls; a tall tower stuck to the hip of the main building – a silver cross upon its peak and along the edges of the center place. Tinted glass surrounded each window; a large circulator panel over tall, oak wood doors standing out above the otherwise rectangular glass. The twin doors stand propped open for the day’s service; faint light at the end of the altar glowing ominously – like distant flames of a furnace. The smell of herbs and burning candle wax hit strong as you enter; both you and Alasdair sitting in pews at the very back of the church.

The interior was even more marvelous. Cream colored walls basked in a warm light from lanterns;

Moments after you settle down, a man walks up to the podium before the altar. Specs of grey salts his shoulder length, champagne hair colored; a single green eye visible through the unkempt mane – smiling cordially at the crowd below. Bandaged poke from the collar of his black robes to the sleeves; small scars dawning his pale knuckles. He places his hand on the surface of the podium, surveying the room with a quick sweep as the kind smile from his eye spreads to his lips. In the very last second his gaze washed over the room, you could have sworn he took a double glance at you.

“Friends, family, newcomers. We thank you all for joining us on another glorious day that the lord has given us. Let us join in faith and allow him to guide us in his glory to a brighter light.”

After the morning prayer, he begins to read off scripture verse from the Bible. Alasdair seems completely encapsulated in the words of the priest, but you couldn’t shake the familiar feeling of being watched.

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their home and confidence.”

Once service ends, you and Alasdair prepare to leave. If you hurried, there was time to get a bit more reset before the next activity of the day. Before you could make it to the exit, footsteps click to a halt on the checkered floor behind you.

“Good day.”

You turn. The priest stands before you, arms tucked behind his back with a grin plastered to his face. It felt – different from the one he gave before. More genuine than before, yet eerie at the same time.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you two before. It’s always nice to have young new faces.”

Alasdair extends a hand, and a friendly smile. “Alasdair, and this is Y/n.”

Basically ignoring Alasdair, the priest turns his focus to you, offering his palm to you instead. “Father Aiken. It’s a pleasure.”

You hesitantly shake it. His grip is firm; the gesture lasting a few seconds longer than needed. He stares you down, calloused fingers deep in your palm – the pulse beneath almost palpable. He lets go and returns his hand to its original position.

“Our doors are always open. Come by anytime.” He nods in Alasdair’s general direction before heading off. You decide to leave without questioning it any further.

On the way home, you strike up a conversation with Alasdair.

“So.. what did you think?”

“It was.. an interest. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but before we met I paid little attention to your kind. It’s quite the experience to hear more about your beliefs in our creator.” He furrowed his brows. “But that man seemed.. off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every being gives off some kind of aura, even us angels. They could be factors in your race, or measures of your moral code like with you humans. Aiken didn’t have one at all. The only other time I’ve seen this is with…” He shakes his head.” ah, it’s probably nothing to worry about. Did you have a good time, Y/n?”

“It was alright… Would you go again?”

“I’m honestly not sure."

Days go by and you pretty much push the encounter to the back of your mind. You head out with Baron one day to pick up a couple things from the grocery store; the demon fortunately in human form as he rushed through the isles like a bat out of hell. With him off on his own, you venture elsewhere to find your personal wares. As you search the many shelves, a familiar voice calls from over your shoulder.

“Y/n?”

Looking back, you see Father Aiken; dressed in a casual outfit of a sweater and pants – shopping basket in one hand. It was easier to see the cloth wrapped around his body in the looser clothing; discolored poking from their length. He places his hand over his chest as he lets out a soft gasp.

“Ah, I thought it was you, my dear. How are you on this fine afternoon?”

“Not bad. How about you, Father?”

“Oh please, call me Jeremiah. No need for formalities. I didn’t see you at our last service. I don’t mean to pry, but will you ever return?”

You crack a nervous smile. “Sorry… I’ve just been busy with.. things-"

He frowns a bit. “Ah well, that's unfortunate. Excuse me.”

Jeremiah goes to grab something from the shelf beside your head, only for it to slip from his grasp and class to the ground. Being closer, you kneel to pick it up; yet he does the same. His hand glides over yours, but instead of pulling back he grabs it. You attempt to worm free, but he strokes the back of your palm as he squeezes your hand.

“I knew it… You’ve been through so much haven’t you, Y/n?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have troubles. Ones you can’t talk about with others. Haunted by foolish mistakes.”

You clench your jaw; looking towards the ground – his smile grows.

“Please stop by this weekend. We’re having a baptism, and I’d love to get to speak with you more.

He lets you go, standing up right as Baron turns the corner with the shopping cart. The two share a passing glance, but Jeremiah leaves. Baron rushes over to you.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good…”

You get dressed for the service before either of your bedmates wake up – or so you thought. As you leave the bathroom, Alasdair stands near the doorway waiting.

“Are you heading somewhere, Y/n?”

“Nowhere specific. Just heading out.” You reply, avoiding eye contact.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“I’m fine on my own.”

“Are you sure-"

“Yes.” As comfortable as you were getting with them around, there were always times you felt suffocated by their constant attention – maybe that’s why you were going where you were now. Alasdair drops the subject, a thin frown on his face. You squeeze past him and exit the room. He looks over at Baron who had been woken by fuss.

“It looks like I’ll be heading out too.”

The service goes on without a hitch. At its end, Jeremiah calls forth a young male sitting in the front row. The pair stand before a small fountain, the waters within giving of a golden light; though hard to tell whether it was from the lights above or the bowl. The man kneels, Jeremiah dipping his palm into the cool waters. He swipes his hand over the man’s forehead as he speaks.

“Today we acknowledge the death of your old self and the professions of faith. You have been raised to a new life along the path of your worship, and in the name of the Holy Lord I now baptize you.”

He brings his finger down in the opposite direction, helping the man to his feet afterwards. The service lets out soon after that and he walks to you, sitting beside you as the final person leaves. He gently places his hand on your leg.

“You came. I’m glad.”

“What did you mean.. back at the store?”

He exhales. “You are a very special person, Y/n. I could see that even during our first meeting, and I can also see what’s been shackled to you for many months. Powerful entities that barely leave you with a breath to spare. Am I wrong?”

You sigh. “Not completely.”

“It seems you’ve grown attached to them as well, and that’s understandable, but the best course of action might be to let it all go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Give yourself over to faith, Y/n. By my hand, and the lord’s, we can help you find eternal peace. You can live without a single worry.”

You look away. Sure, the group was a pain, but they had grown on you – just like he said. The times of you wanting to get completely rid of them were in the past, but sometimes they still came into question. The multiple times you escaped near death had worn you down. Many things had. Everything he had said sounded ridiculous, but so much of your life up to this point had been as well.

“I don’t know about that.”

Jeremiah smiles warmly. “It’s alright, my dear. We all need time before tough choices. I’ll expect you next week.”

Alasdair watches you from behind a pillar, heart sunken at the defeat in your eyes. He eases past and to a door at the end of the hall – Jeremiah's office. It’s what you’d typically expect to see in such a place. A fan in one corner, calendar and various religious tapestries along the walls – desk in the center of the room. He goes over to it, searching the drawers for any information. The first few are empty, yet the final catches his eye. It has a lock; broken like wet tissue paper with enough force. At first all he sees is papers that seem unimportant at first, until he stumbles across a photo. One of you.

There’s more beneath. Ones of you at work; on the way home – inside your house. Dates written in red ink are printed on the back. He looks over the papers once more. Upon second glance; he realizes they ate schedules of your habits – likely looking for the right moment you’d be alone. As if it couldn’t get worse,, the final item in the drawer chills him to the core. It was a bone. The wing bone of a bird.

You return home hours later. It was actually nice to take to another human for a little while. Your conversation derailed from your problems and to average questions about the day – like something friends would have. The second you unlock the door, hands grip your shoulders and pull you in like the talons of a hawk.

“Where. Were. You.”

Alasdair’s stare is unlike anything you’ve never seen. Unhinged, panicked. He holds onto your like you’d slip through the cracks if he let go. It almost hurt.

“I went to church. Is that a crime?”

“Stay away from that man. He’s not safe to be around.”

“He seems fine to me. Let go- that hurts!”

He immediately lets you go at the announcement of your discomfort, not realizing he had been unintentionally clamping down on your shoulder. The surface is red, throbbing. The anger and fear in him instantly turns into guilt.

“I.. I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want to keep you safe. That’s what we all want.”

You bit your lip; bite back what you have to say. When was it your turn to get what you wanted? These people have forced their way into your life, and while you made your peace with it; you longed for a taste of your life before. The silence.

“Promise me that you won’t go back.”

“I promise…

“Look at me and say it.”

You stare him in the eyes. “I promise I won’t go back.”

You wake at the crack of dawn, far before anyone else. You had slept that night with Maddox to further throw off suspicion. They were nestled in the corner of the couch, practically swallowed by it to give you as much space as they could. He had a look of utter contentment on his face. He always did when you slept with him. You replace your body with one of the arm pillows and leave; unaware of the eyes from the shadows.

The sun barely peaks over the horizon as you make it to the church. You planned on just camping out, but find the doors to be unlocked as you test them to make sure. The building is even creepier in the early hours. An empty husk of it could be; pews empty except for the silent wind. You see a figure at the end of the walkway and take a few steps forward; taking note of how it was a few inches taller than Jeremiah as you neared, and wearing less baggy, more formal clothes.

“You lied to me, Y/n.”

Alasdair glares down at you, closing the distance. He doesn’t let you make your case; grabbing your wrist as he heads to the exit. “We’re leaving.”

“I just wanted to give him an answer.”

“He doesn’t deserve any of your time, forget him.”

“You don’t understand…”

He grabs your other wrist, forcing you to look at him as he halts in the middle of the aisle; fear and trepidation clear on his face. Something you’ve only seen once before. “No, Y/n, you don’t understand. That man has been watching you. He’s been killing ange-"

Halfway through his sentence, something pierces Alasdair’s chest. His eyes meet yours, golden blood dribbling over his lips. The item removes itself from the cavity; his body slumping backwards. His hands still hold onto you, lightly pushing you away – almost telling you to run instead of it being the force of his limbs growing slack. As he collapses to the floor, you see the cause of the damage – blood dancing along the thin fingers of a bandaged hand.

You had seen Alasdair get hurt before. You were cutting something, and dropped the knife. He grabbed it, blade first with his bare hand – not even a drop of blood falling from the wound. Just an empty void in his palm.

“It’s alright, Y/n. There’s nothing man-made that can hurt me.”

“A pest this one was. Most of his kind are. Ah well, this was bound to be his fate someday.”

Jeremiah brings his hand to his face, licking the blood from each individual finger. As if only noticing you once he finished the cruel act, he grins.

“Hello, my dear.”

You trembled; legs geared to flee, yet remained stiff as stone. He steps on Alasdair’s sprawled out hand as he walks towards you.

“I’m very happy to see you again, Y/n~”

You stare past him, at Alasdair’s body; the blood circling him like tar. “H…how?”

“Growing up God, my family was extremely religious , even in the toughest hour. I tried my hardest to follow behind, but even then I knew the truth. God abandoned us, Y/n.”

You look in his direction.

“Did he ever tell you that? It’s the first thing those like him say. Blindlessly following orders from something that hasn’t been heard from in years. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?”

He cocks his head to the side, farther than humanly possibly. “Do you know why?”

“It’s because he’s dead.”

The bandages around his neck and arms fall; like whatever lies beneath was too much to keep wrapped. The skin under is raw, fleshy; pinkish like the muscles beneath – bulging off his body like a virus. Eyes tear through the mesh; blink starred, half lidded. The “flesh” drips over his left arm, its length and combining his fingers into a singular mass. Through the strands of his hair, his other eye becomes visible. Eyes to paint a better picture. Another eye had squeezed itself into the socket; iris yellow in color and surrounded by small rings.

“And I’m his replacement.”

“A..are you saying that you…”

“Killed God? Heaven’s no, silly! I merely found his corpse and ate it. I suspect the lazy bastard died sometime after the creation of man.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re killing angels.”

“Not just angels. Anything that stands in my way. Humans are terribly flawed, Y/n. A majority of us worship a corpse for Christ’s sake! I’ll be what he failed to be. A Shepherd for humanity and bring it to its most prosperous hour. The light at the end of the tunnel. But none of that can be done, without you.”

He brings his hand up to your face, gently stroking your cheek. The limb is hot, almost unbearably so. He gives you the same warm smile he always had.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, Y/n.. You’ve brought so many from beyond the veil to your doorstep when you’re what some would call an average person. I’ve been watching you, unsure what I should do with someone like you; but overtime I’ve come to see what those vermin have as well. You’re an extraordinary being with the will to go on after so much pain. What many have lost the will to do. You make me feel something I haven’t been in ages… human.”

He presses his lips to yours, locking you in a kiss with his hand to the back of your neck. Alasdair’s blood still clings to his bottom lip. He pulls away with a look of amazement.

“What a rush! Ah, I’ve missed feeling things like this. You’re the only one who can ground me to this reality, make sure I keep the one thing I lost so long ago. I was planning on taking you myself, but since you came on your own I knew our courtship was meant to be. You feel the same way… right?~”

You don’t say anything. No words come to mind. Everything feels numb. You still look past him, at the body on the ground below. The blood rushes to your head. You’re unable to feel his tremendous gaze; the scream that echoes through the church’s hall – how your body falls from his grasp and unto the arms of another.

Maddox carries you in their arms away from the building; Baron close by with Alasdair’s limp form over his shoulders. Jeremiah is nowhere to be seen. Time feels like it’s going by at a crawl. You hear the faint tick of a clock as Maddox's skeletal hands drag you away from the scene. He looks down at you, expression unreadable as he covers your eyes with his free palm.

Upon returning home, Baron carries Alasdair to the bedroom to tend to his wounds. “He’s still warm.” Is all he gave you. Maddox stays with you on the couch, holding your shaking hands; your head in the crook of his neck.

“He’ll be okay.” He tries, but you knew that neither of you knew if that was true. Though your memories were a haze after that final moment, you remember the last thing Jeremiah said to you.

“See you, soon…”

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