Welcome to my sinful corner. 18+ Writer fascinated by the multitalented Richard Armitage. Admirer of art and beautiful things. And Father Quart. Header by the amazing Legolasbadass.
One-shots in the series of Art & Vampires. Excerpts from Mitchell’s diary.
Words: 767
Being a badass male vampire doesn't mean you can handle female vampires 😁
References to stories in the Art & Vampires series - 1. New Orleans and 2. London and 6. New York
Art & Vampires is about the relationship and developments around Mitchell, a vampire and Amy (Ames), a human. It’s about the vampire world, the supernatural, but also about history, cities around the world, art, antiques and adventures.
Face claims vampires: Aidan Turner - John Mitchell, Richard Armitage - Rick Marlowe, Jaime Murray - Alana (Lana) Lenoir and Ben Barnes - Ben Sheldon. Humans: Mila Kunis - Amy (Ames) Quinn, Bianca Lawson - Lena Parker (witch).
List of Mitchell’s diary One Shots in the Art & Vampires Master list
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Rick warned me, but of course I didn't listen. That time, I was in way over my head and I can tell you that being immortal is less attractive when Alana keeps bringing up your mistake and rubs your face in it every time she gets the chance. But what can I say, she was a beauty.
I'm talking about Neesha of course.
I'll never forget her and not just because Lana keeps reminding me, the she-devil. I hope she doesn't get her hands on this diary, otherwise I'm screwed, like that time I got involved with Neesha. And I mean literally.
It was in the forties, nineteen forties. I need to remember to mention the centuries. We were back in London and I had been able to get my life, or existence, to be exact, back on track after, well, you know, Belle.
I had been thinking. I couldn't go through any of that again, losing a loved one. I'd had a hard enough time before Belle, dealing with the fact that you will always outlive your loved ones, but losing Belle hit hard, as you are well aware, because I've written diaries full of my laments.
So, I had a plan, a brilliant one. I had the perfect solution. I would get myself a female vampire companion, who would never leave me and I would have eternal happiness. Neesha was going to be just that. Or so I thought.
In the first half of the 20th century, we moved around from New Orleans to New York, and finally back to London. After the war, London was a mess. The city was severely damaged and even though our neighborhood wasn't spared, The Mayfair, our mansion, was. We moved back for a while to keep an eye on things and make sure that it remained our house. People who lost their homes during the bombings of London were being relocated to abandoned houses and we needed to make sure that our mansion was not going to be taken over by others.
Fortunately for me, even though the city was damaged and the people were recovering from the war, there were always parties to be found. Especially for us vampires.
As you can imagine, I was spending as much time as I could attending as many parties as I could. I was determined to find that vampire companion and never be sad again.
Neesha was a gorgeous goddess, who stood out amongst the crowd like a shining star in the dark night sky, quite literally, with her shiny jewelry and extravagant silver dress.
I can't even remember how I got there, to that party, but I will always remember the sight of her and how I, half intoxicated, chatted her up and actually managed to get her undivided attention.
As said, Rick had warned me not to get involved with her. He had an eye for 'trouble', but, you know, I had my plan and this scrumptious woman was going to fit that perfectly.
To this day I'm still not sure if she was playing with me, like a cat with her prey, or if I had enamored her with my charm.
By the end of the night, having abandoned Rick and Alana, I found myself in Neesha's arms, or in hindsight, claws, in what seemed to be a former hotel somewhere in the city. She had made the hotel her home and the top room, with a huge skylight, was her den.
I don't know how many times we fucked, but it seemed like we did nothing else for days. It was like I was under her spell and I couldn't get free and I am man enough to admit that my dick actually hurt!
You know, as vampires, we recover quickly, also on that front, but after Neesha, I was about ready to be celebate for the rest of my immortal life.
At some point, I must have seen the light and realize that I wasn't ready to have my existence ended by sex. Even if death by sex sounds pleasant enough. So, I ran and didn't look back and my not so brilliant plan of getting a vampire companion went out the door with me. I didn't stay celibate of course, but those are stories for another time.
Anyway, I'm not sure why I wrote down this memory. Maybe it's because Ames was fishing for embarrassing stories from the past and I didn't really want to confess all this to her. Or maybe it's a way of letting go. Now if only Alana could do the same.
Time to say goodnight for now and hide you well, my dear diary. I'm ready to join my sweet Ames in bed, cuddle up to her and make pleasant memories.
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Since I apparently can no longer go near a church or candles without thinking of a certain priest... I'm throwing this to your muse, in case she sparks anything.
My dear @sweetestgbye, thanks for leaving your confession in my ask box. ⛪️ and🕯you say? I hope you'll like what my muse came up with. 💛
Burning Desire
Fandom: The Man from Rome
Relationship: Father Quart x OC Lucia
Warnings: 18+
The wax is warm and soft under her fingertips, and Lucia gently squeezes the top of the candle. The edge bows to her will and collapses in the already melted wax. She smiles as the flame seems to take a deep breath and then returns to its original shape.
”You should not play with candles.” A dark and slightly intimidating voice, coming from behind, sends a shiver down her spine. She can tell the man is standing close to her—too close to be considered a coincidence. ”You might get burned.”
Lucia doesn't have to look over her shoulder, she knows the deep, alluring voice belongs to the man she spent over an hour to both seduce and ignore at the same time.
The church was packed when she finally found a spot for herself, and when she looked out over the ocean of faces, she instantly noticed him. A bit taller than the people seated next to him, he really stood out from the crowd. Not only by his looks, even if he is incredibly handsome, but an unusual calmness appeared to surround him. The enigmatic man was seated a few pews behind her, and every time she turned her head, their gazes met. When she tried to focus on the choir and the beautiful Christmas songs that seemed to float through the air, she could feel his piercing gaze burning the skin on her neck. Her long, blond hair was arranged in a messy bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. When she made her scarf slip on purpose, she instinctively knew he took notice. And she loved it.
She squeezes the candle again, and this time the melted wax drips down the length of the slim candle. With great fascination, Lucia watches how a beautiful pattern takes form, but eventually, the heavy candlestick stops the wax from continuing its journey.
”I don’t mind the heat from the wax, it can be controlled.” The words slip from her, and she bites her lower lip. Why did she say that? Lucia moves her fingers to the slightly taller candle, second in line at the altar. She repeats her small assault on the new candle, but as it starts to give in, she doesn’t remove her hand. The warm wax slowly drips over her fingers, but she doesn’t flinch nor withdraw. Instead, she closes her eyes and breathes through her nose. It’s hot, yet not unbearable, but the smell from the burning candles is abruptly replaced by an unfamiliar, musky scent that makes her knees weak. Suddenly a large hand clasps around her wrist and pulls her fingers away from the candle. She spins around and meets the man’s cerulean stare.
”Inflicting pain on yourself is a sin.” If he spoke louder, his voice would roll between the stone walls in the church like thunder, but now, as he speaks in a hushed tone, his words find their way under her skin and make her heart beat faster. The man is much taller than she expected, and he towers over her as he gazes down at her hand. His hair is dark, kissed by age at his temples, and in his stubble she can read the traces of experience and sacrifice. He wears a dark suit, an aegean shirt, and around his neck—the evidence of his calling—a white clergy collar. Lucia swallows hard; he looks even more handsome up close.
”Is it still considered a sin if I ask someone else to inflict pain upon my skin?” she whispers, too overwhelmed by his appearance to be able to command her tone.
”It depends,” his voice drops even lower, and it makes her tremble. ”Is the pain for penance, or simply your own satisfaction?” Lucia gasps at his words. Who is this man? He is not a usual priest, and something in his eyes reveals that he has seen far more than the average man. And yet she can’t deny it; the quite intriguing look in his eyes gives her a thrill unlike anything she has ever felt.
”Both,” she lowers her gaze but registers the change in his eyes. A storm is approaching, and she's without shelter. Against his demeanor, she stands defenseless. She should have known; she felt the raw attraction when seated in the pew, and now, as he exposes his true self, Lucia is struggling to keep her feelings under control.
”Why these candles?” His voice is sharp, but she senses a curious question behind the scolding tone.
Lucia lets her gaze fall back on the candles standing on the altar. They flicker as a result of her disobedience.
”They are beautiful.” Her answer is simple—too simple to be the whole truth. She didn’t expect to have this conversation, at least not here, so soon, and she is not yet ready to reveal the real reason behind her act. ”And I like to push my limits.” Her last words are only a soft whisper, even if the last visitors left the old church a while ago.
”That can be done in many other ways.” His remark surprises her, and she turns to face him again.
”I know.”
A long pause follows, questions lurking in the silence between them, and Lucia perceives how she’s physically drawn to the man, as if he’s the strongest magnet and she a thin needle.
”How long has it been since your last confession?” Another surprising question, and she lowers her gaze, slightly embarrassed.
”Too long I assume,” Lucia mumbles. It’s the truth. She was raised catholic, but as an adult, she struggles to feel included. Still, she enjoys visiting church, but when she does, it’s mainly for the music and the possibility to admire the grand architecture and the paintings.
”So it’s pleasure you’re seeking then, not penance.” Something in his words ignites her inner fire, and she lets out an involuntary, longing sigh.
”May I ask your name?” She can hear her own voice tremble slightly.
”Quart.” His reply is instant and harsh, like the crack from a whip being wielded in the air.
”Tell me, Father, why are you asking me all this? What are you seeking?”
Father Quart ponders over her question; he’s not really sure himself. Recently he has questioned his choice in life. The sometimes shady work he does for the Vatican comes with a high price. He knows Monsignor Spada expects him to carry on, but there are many nights when Father Quart dreams of another life. A life without a vow of celibacy.
The woman before him is beautiful, yet something tells him she might not realize it. She is almost a head shorter, with a golden glow in her blond hair, which reminds him of a burning match. Her neck is long, and her skin pale. But it’s not her features he finds irresistible; it’s the depth of her eyes. She’s a seeker, but not only for spiritual guidance.
Without even thinking of it, Father Quart lifts his hand and strokes the collar around his neck. For some reason, it feels heavier now than it did when the sun broke free from the night, but not even the smallest muscle in his face reveals his inner struggle as he speaks. ”I have found my place.”
Lucia watches him in silence and nods. It makes sense to her, but she can’t shake away the feeling of a growing bond between them—unspoken yet undeniable.
”My name is Lucia,” she then says and smiles warmly at him.
Father Quart smiles back, but it’s a restrained smile, forced upon his lips, for her mouth moves sensually when she speaks, and he can’t hinder his own thoughts. In fact, he doesn’t want to. He watches her hand, the one he pulled from the candle, as she reaches out and strokes the altar.
Lucia looks around in the empty church and back at the man she now knows as Quart. Father Quart, she corrects herself.
”Will you hear my confession, Father?” Her voice is once again only a seductive whisper.
Father Quart closes his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts. It has been a long time since he helped a parishioner in confession, but he can’t refuse. When he opens his eyes, she looks straight at him with an expression he has not seen in many years.
”If that is your wish.”
She smiles and makes the sign of a cross. ”Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been so long since my last confession, I can’t even remember when it was.”
Father Quart chooses to stay silent and allows Lucia to find her own pace. Soon, a stream of words start falling from her lips, spoken calmly and detailed. She doesn’t hold back when she explains her lust and desire. How she needs a man who can satisfy all her needs. Father Quart remains silent and listens to how she carefully changes her focus toward the candles, the melted wax—and the altar. Her admiration for their beauty becomes very clear to him, and the strange feelings they awake in her. She doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can still read the forbidden fantasy in her eyes; Lucia, lying naked on the cold altar with a man standing beside her and painting her body with dripping, warm wax. And Father Quart has a good understanding of who that man should be. Then she falls silent, as if lost in her own thoughts. He waits, but when she neither continues nor ends her confession, Father Quart decides to speak.
”Lucia, your confession doesn’t sound like you’re truly regretting your thoughts.”
She doesn’t respond, but a sweet blush caresses her cheekbones, and Father Quart notices the smallest shift in her eyes. He recognizes that look—guilt—and it only confirms his suspicions. ”I don’t think it's the Lord’s forgiveness you want, so what is it? Why are you telling me this?”
She captures his gaze and holds it steadily. ”Can’t you feel it? Or are you just too afraid to acknowledge it?”
Father Quart knows exactly what she’s talking about, for it has been on his mind ever since he grabbed her hand. Her soft skin against his was enough to wake his desire. He’s drawn to her, a powerful attraction—yes—but also on a deeper level. He senses they are more alike than he’s comfortable with. Her needs mirror his own, only he has spent years suppressing his carnal lust. He takes her hand in his and holds it closer to the candle. No red marks or traces of wax can be seen on her delicate fingers, and Lucia is standing completely still, as if waiting for something. At that moment, Father Quart realizes he wants to see the melted wax drip down on her again. And he yearns to see those beautiful eyes in front of him burn with passion.
”You want me to do this to you, don’t you?” His voice grows thick when he meets her gaze, and the strong need in her eyes almost makes him lose control. Almost.
”Yes,” she breathes. ”More than anything.”
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Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references, angst, smut, heartbreak, gunshot wounds and recovery, abduction, hostage situation.
Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Amy is now working for MI-5, after being recruited by Ros. But will her involvement with Lucas cause even more problems and heartbreak?
Official soundtrack list: here
Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in.
The first day back was quiet, slow and fairly uneventful. Amy remained with Tariq, scouring CCTV footage from a new case that had landed on the main desk of section D. Lucas was in a three hour meeting with Ros, Jo and Harry, discussing the Robert Spiller case.
“Lunch time in a bit,” Amy said, swivelling on her chair, in her usual child-like manner.
“You are obsessed with food,” Tariq chuckled. “Are you sure Lucas feeds you enough at home?”
“I know my priorities, and food is one of them.” With that, Amy opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a Mars bar from a multi pack. “Want one?”
Tariq chuckled again. “Go on, then. I was supposed to be starting back at the gym tonight. Looks like I’ll have to forego another day.”
“Come on, one chocolate bar won’t hurt you.”
Once Lucas’ meeting was finished, he dashed out of the room and over to Amy’s desk. He perched on the table next to her, looking down as she smiled up at him from her chair. His heart filled with so much love for her, that he knew he’d never felt anything like this before. Whenever her large, green eyes focused on him, he found himself dissociating from the world around him. He reached out and took her hand, holding it for a few seconds, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. Then his thumb grazed her engagement ring.
“I’m going to be home late tonight,” Lucas said. “I’ve got a fair bit to do on Spiller, and Harry’s asked me to brief the Midlands team who are going out tonight on surveillance. Will you be okay going home on your own?”
“Of course I will. I’m a big girl, after all.”
Lucas sighed. “Aim, I just worry, that’s all.”
“Come on, let’s go and grab something to eat. I think I’ve driven Tariq mad keep talking about food.”
“You’ve got that right!” Tariq’s playful voice came from across the room as he walked away, ready to make another mug of coffee.
***
Amy left the office around 5:15pm that evening with Tariq and Ruth. All three of them ventured out into the cold air, pulling their scarves and gloves on tighter. They separated, going in different directions. Amy continued on towards Lambeth Bridge, crossing over it, weaving between fellow commuters and tourists. The sky was pitch black and littered with silver stars, as if someone had thrown glitter against a silk backdrop.
Amy took her phone from her pocket and saw a new message from Lucas.
Be safe. I love you. Xxx
Whenever he said or wrote those words ‘I love you’, Amy still felt a slight pang of disbelief amongst her excitement. Thankfully, that voice which had always boldly told her she would never be enough, was gradually turning into a whisper.
She looked out across the river at the London Eye, watching the colours change. One day she would come out early, grab a coffee, and sit down at the riverside and draw it; she’d already planned it all in her mind. Maybe even draw Big Ben and Parliament. Amy had always liked coming out into London when it was early and few people were yet roaming the street. She felt comfortable and safe, being more alone and less likely to be disturbed.
***
Lucas took the underground back to his and Amy’s flat. For the duration of the journey, Lucas flicked through photos of himself and Amy. A few of them were from New Year up in Coventry, with Amy’s brother in law and nephew photobombing in the background of one, and in another, Amy’s dad had been caught to the side, his eyes closed and his mouth puckered, just ready to take a sip of beer: not the most flattering of poses. His favourite was still a photo of them snuggled up on the sofa together, Amy with her head on his shoulder, grinning childishly. They’d only been together two months or so when he took this photo, and already they both looked happy.
It was around seven weeks away from their one year anniversary, and Lucas had begun thinking of gift ideas. He had already brought her jewellery for Christmas. And Amy’s birthday was also approaching, being the last day of January. Lucas had been taking mental notes of items Amy had mentioned, like a pair of tartan Converse she been eyeing on their last shopping trip. Then there was Valentine’s Day! It was all coming together in one swoop. However, Amy’s training was due to start the second week of February, so Valentine’s and their anniversary would need to be celebrated over their available weekends.
It had been strange that she had not text him that evening since leaving Thames House. Normally if one of them was in the office and the other at home, they would text back and forth. Their texts were usually about what meals were planned for dinner and what film they would be watching, with some playful banter in between.
Upon the walk from the underground station to their street, Lucas checked his phone. No new messages.
Maybe she had been tired and went for a nap ahead of him returning home. Possibly? But doubtful. It was rare, if not completely out of character, for Amy to not text him while they were apart.
As Lucas turned his key in the lock and opened the door to the flat, he was surprised to see that no lights were on. Normally if Lucas returned and Amy was already there, she would leave a lamp on in the hallway, which cast a faint light through into the kitchen and dining area.
Immediately he sensed that something was amiss. It was just past eleven at night, so Amy was probably in bed, either reading, scrolling on her phone, or sleeping.
Lucas went to the bedroom. Dark and empty.
He called her name and stepped into the bathroom. Nothing.
Lucas took his phone from his pocket and found Amy’s number and called.
“The person you are calling is not available…”
Lucas growled and then called Harry.
“Lucas? Is everything alright?” Harry Pearce’s professional yet concerned voice came.
“Have you requested Amy go back in?”
“No, why?”
“She’s not at home. All the lights were off and she hasn’t told me she’s going anywhere, which isn’t like her.”
“Maybe she’s met up with a friend. There are many reasons she might not be home. Try not to worry.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Lucas said, sighing in frustration. He knew her. Amy would never have left the flat without leaving the lamp on, and certainly would never have disappeared so late and not told him. Even if she had bumped into a friend on the way home, for instance, she would have still text Lucas to let him know she would be late returning home.
The only other person who Lucas could think of who might have seen her was Debbie from her old work place. But Lucas didn’t have her number to contact. For a minute, he sat down on the bed, on Amy’s side and looked at her bedside table. Her current reading book, an empty mug, a Tinkerbell figurine, a black Moleskine journal for her doodles.
Of course no one would believe him at this point that Amy was missing; no one knew her patterns like him. He picked up her purple pyjama bottoms and felt dread fill him to the core. Something was definitely wrong. Even if no one could yet see it.
“Where are you, angel?” he whispered. “Tell me where you are.”
By the time it had turned midnight, Lucas knew with absolute certainty that Amy was missing. He grabbed his Belstaff jacket from the hallway, and picked up his keys off the small table next to the letter rack. At the front was an electricity bill that had come that morning. Lucas eyed their names: Miss. A. Holland and Mr. L. North. She’d been so happy when their first joint mail had come, giggling happily.
“One day, not too far away, and it’ll say Mrs. A North.” Something so simple had made her so ecstatic. It was in those moments, when something so simple made her smile, that Lucas fell even more deeply in love with her.
Back on the Grid, Lucas logged on to one of the computers. Only one or two people flitted past him, disappearing down corridors, until a familiar face appeared from around the edge of one of the computers.
“Malcolm?” Lucas exclaimed.
“You’re in late.” The middle aged man was shocked to see Lucas in the office so late of a night. “Are you back for the Spiller case.”
“I think Amy’s missing,” Lucas told him. “She never came home tonight. I got back and the flat was empty and there were no lights on. She always leaves the lamp on in the hallway when I get in after her.”
“Maybe she forgot…”
“Malcolm, I know her. I live with her. She hasn’t text me all evening, which is unlike her. We constantly text. Can you run all recent footage in the area and track her phone?”
Malcolm started by opening Amy’s employee record. Her photo filled the screen, and as it did, Lucas smiled sadly. The memory of her lying unconscious in hospital surfaced. His beautiful Amy. His wife-to-be. The future Mrs. Lucas North.
“What’s her mobile number?”
Lucas reeled off her number by memory, and Malcolm entered the number into the tracking programme, whilst he run her photo against all CCTV in London. Amy’s photo remained locked on the monitor in the left hand corner as random faces appeared and disappeared, within milliseconds, hundreds of faces being analysed.
“Her phone was last monitored by a local cell tower at 5:32pm. Coordinates show that she was at South Bank…”
“Heading for the train home,” Lucas interrupted. “That must have been when I sent her my last text message.”
“Her phone has no reception and hasn’t been used since, not even on the Wi-Fi.”
Terror racked through Lucas and he eyed the faces which were still flipping, none of them staying on screen for longer than a quarter of a second. A blur of eyes, noses, skin colours and hairstyles. “Come on, angel,” he whispered. “Come on! Give us something.”
A match appeared on the screen; a scene of Amy walking past a pub enlarged on the screen. An address appeared and the coordinate of the building. “South facing camera from the front door of The King’s Head…”
The rest of Malcolm’s words seemed to dissolve away as Lucas began writing down the address of the pub from the screen. “What time was this?”
“5:40.”
“Just before she got to the underground station. Did your search then include all the underground lines?”
“Yes.”
“So she didn’t get on a train because she would’ve been picked up on the cameras. Can you check all the vehicles parked in that street and also within a half mile radius, see if anything stands out? And…” Lucas’ voice broke and he hung his head, resting back on the desk behind him.
“We’ll find her,” Malcolm reassured.
All Lucas could see in his mind was Amy in his arms, and blood staining his hands and shirt. He could hear her whimpers as he held her, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. There was no way he could let that happen again. It was his duty to protect her, first and foremost. Fuck everyone else. Only Amy mattered.
“This has got to be connected with Sarah. Why else would anyone target her?” Lucas asked, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Even in death and the bitch wouldn’t leave him alone.
An hour later and Harry and Ros had arrived, both with a coffee in hand to attempt to wake them. Harry immediately approached Malcolm, who was sifting through all the vehicle registrations that had been in the vicinity of where Amy was last seen.
Meanwhile, Lucas was sat at Amy’s desk.
“Is he absolutely sure Amy is missing?” Harry enquired, whispering to Malcolm. “Could he be jumping the gun on this one?”
Malcolm sighed. “I wouldn’t have called you in, Harry, if I didn’t feel there was something wrong. Amy was last seen here,” and with that, Malcolm pointed to a map on the screen. “CCTV footage caught her walking past The King’s Head, approaching the underground station. Then she went out of shot. None of the underground cameras saw her. She must have disappeared in that street.”
Ros stood next to Lucas, remaining silent. She felt sadness at the sight of him with his head held low. Next to the time when Amy had been shot, Ros had never encountered Lucas looking so beaten down.
“I’m not going to say it, Ros, but you know I’m thinking it,” Lucas sighed.
“I know you all too well by now, Lucas. Of course you’re thinking it. And you still blame me for recruiting her.”
Lucas stared at Amy’s empty Winnie the Pooh mug on the desk and felt as if his whole chest were compressing, about to implode.
“You shouldn’t be here. We’ll take this from here. Go home.”
Lucas looked up at Ros, his ice blue eyes full of turmoil. “How can I go home? I need to find her.”
Harry walked over. “Ros is right. You can’t be working on this. You’re far too close to her.”
“And that’s exactly the reason I should be working on this. I knew as soon as I got home that something was wrong. I know her behaviour, her ways. You need me to be on this. You barely know her yet.”
“Lucas…” Harry began sternly.
“No, Harry! She’s almost died once because of me, and now I know in my gut that this is connected to Sarah again. I’ve pulled her too far into my life, and it’s constantly putting hers at stake. I should never have got involved with her. I shouldn’t have ever spoken to her in the café and just ignored that want to get to know her…” Tears fell down Lucas’ cheeks in quick procession, and he put his hands to his face, weeping behind them.
