Ghost Band Oneshots

* Papa Emeritus I, Primo

Vampire! Papa Emeritus I x Reader
Second P.O.V.

You've been raised as a weapon for the church. No parents to save you from the assigned destiny that had been carved in your skin. The perfect weapon.
The mission was extremely simple, infiltrate the Abbey and slay Primo formally known as Papa Emeritus I.

You had finished packing clothes for the mission, grabbing on a nearby stool to open the single window in your room. It was tiny but it seemed much bigger when you were a child. Your room consisted of a small bed that you've outgrown, a wardrobe without doors, and a dimly lit yellow light bulb was your sun, the yellow light bulb would highlight the chipping paint from the walls.

You felt the sun's eyes burning your exposed neck, the handle of your suitcase was seemingly getting slippery within the palm of your tight grip. Standing on the last stair of the entrance to the church, the hands of the fellow church member that raised you gripped your shoulders tightly, their eyes carved into your eye sockets.

"Do not fail this mission," they stated. " I didn't raise you to be a failure."

You nodded, turning your back on them hearing the hiss escape the bus from the nearby bus stop.

The bus's color palette was still visible, the vibrant colors and peeling commercial ads that were placed on the sides. Sitting on the bus's plastic seat, watching their intense eyes fade away as they entered the church.

Standing at the entrance of the gothic abbey.
The gothic abbey was tall and beautifully designed with the cathedral glass greeting you with soft hues of greens, reds, and a mixture of oranges and yellows.
The abbey walls were a pearl white to hide its ulterior motive and a Sister of sin guided you to your new room. It was definitely an upgrade of your old room.

The paint wasn't peeling off, a bed that you could actually fit in, nothing broken or stained. A bay window sill that pointed itself across to the greenhouse. Sitting on the window sill to look at the entrance of the room. Hands on your lap, not knowing what to do. Perhaps you could try and escape to go back to the church and experience the humiliation of failing a mission. Or try to organize your clothes into wooden drawers?

The remaining hours you spend putting your clothes away in the wooden drawers, setting the open suitcase on the bed, revealing the items to slay vampires since they were just bloodsucking corpses, nothing more. You closed the suitcase and were able to carefully push it underneath the bed and sat on the bed. Enjoying the soft bed that held you with such care against your tense back. The voice of the elders swam throughout your brain to not form any connections and to do this job swiftly and thoroughly.

You heard a knock at your door, getting up from the bed and opening the door to see a Sibling of sin holding a tray of food and handing it to you before leaving.
It tasted good, delicate on your tastebuds.

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It had been a couple of weeks since you were sent to the abbey, not wanting to seem insistent on working alongside Papa Emeritus. Taking the duties that the other siblings of sin didn't want. A black cassock with matching buttons was your new daily wear.
Regularly attending the unholy sermons and trying not to fall asleep during them was slowly becoming a routine.

You sat on your bed to open the occasional letter from the church berating the time spent away as they had assigned another mission for you when you would return and gently pushing you towards the goal of slaying Primo.

It was a miracle sent from the heavens themselves. One of the siblings of sin that worked for Primo had unexpectedly fallen sick which wasn't your doing, just a miracle and a perfect situation. You carefully tucked away the stake made from hawthorn wood along with the slim iron dagger in your cassock. But there was one thing, you didn't know how to reach the greenhouse.
Thankfully, a sister of sin knew the way and helped you towards the greenhouse. It was a long way there, either it was your rigid movements that made you feel like a marionette, the strings that were tightly on you were from the Church.

The smell from the fresh blooming flowers were in the air.

It was warm. Incredibly warm. It was something from a movie, the freshly watered flowers surrounded him. Different colored flowers that suited him, he was strikingly beautiful—deadly. He belonged to the undead.
You'd been ordered by him to water plants and flowers at a specific angle and amount. He was careful with his guidance, his gloved hands would adjust your hands for watering plants, cutting off unnecessary things for the plants, and repotting plants that have grown.
He carried himself with elegance and order.

He kindled something inside of you, something that was supposed to be kept away. It was subtle. Stealing glances from each other, enjoying him talking about the symbolism of the plants that grew in the garden, and the occasional midnight walks after the sermons.
You unfortunately formed an unwanted connection to him.

—————————————————————-

A stack of unopened letters lay on top of the dresser. You haven't—didn't want to open the letters since it would be repeating the same lines of the slaying of Primo and what is taking you so long?

"Cara mia/Caro mio, is something wrong?" Primo turned to you. "You haven't said anything."

You tried to build courage to finally say the truth about your sudden arrival.
It was only you and him in his chapel. His soft glove seemingly wiped away the stress and worry.

"What bothers you?" He asked again, softly.

The chapel was dimly lit by the yellow flickering candles.
You needed to do this. You didn't want to be labeled as a failure.
The blade of your dagger tore a thin layer of his chasuble. His mitré discarded onto the marble pulpit. You were on top of him, dagger in hand. Your hands began to shake incredibly, trying to plunge the blade deeper and to slay him. His eyes were pained but you haven't fully staked his chest.
Was it his face that seemingly got blurrier? Or did you have something in your eyes that blurred your vision?
Your heart ached, tears slid down your struggling face. His gloved hand carefully wiped away the tears from one side of your face.

"Cara/Caro, can you do it?" he asked. "Do you want to kill me?"

"I—Yes..." you said, thinking about the return back to the Church. "I want to kill you, Primo."

The abbey greeted you with open arms, you were trying to kill the man who opened your shattered heart with a new found emotion called love.

"Then do it, cara mia/caro mio."