Title: Odi et amo
Author: gothikmaus
Fandom: Interview with the vampire (TV)
Pairing: Armand/Daniel Molloy
Rating: R/Mature
Category: ficlet
Summary: Daniel had always known he was fucked up.
A/N: Written for Day 1 of Devil's Minion Week 2026. Prompts: Transformation and Daniel's turning trauma. The thin line between love and hate. Blood play and blood sharing.
Interview with the vampire and all Vampire Chronicles characters are property of Anne Rice. I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
"I shouldn't have let you stay in the sun for so long," Armand said, running the backs of his fingers down Daniel's cheek.
Daniel's first reaction was to flinch away. Not because the touch was painful: Armand's feather-like caress sent a pleasantly cool tingle over his sunburned skin, but he was still coming to terms with whatever there was between them.
A hurt expression dawned on Armand's face, and he withdrew his hand. Daniel felt guilty and immediately cursed himself for it. He had every right to be mad: he still remembered Armand attacking him on that plane, the sharp burn as his fangs had sunk into his neck, his limbs going numb as the life had been sucked out of him. Then a wrist pressed against his lips, Armand's hand grabbing his face and forcing him in place as he had tried to turn away, the revolting taste of blood filling his mouth, dribbling down his chin. And the excruciating pain that had come with his transformation, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, his insides burning up and acid rising to his throat as he retched.
At some point he had lost consciousness and when he had come to, he had been alone, an eerie silence filling the empty jet, the artificial lights far too bright for his brand new eyes.
Funnily enough, that was what had hurt him the most. He had fantasized about becoming a vampire in his youth, had wondered what it would feel like to be a ruthless killer, immortal and unbothered by meaningless human affairs. He had been so sure that would be the greatest feeling ever.
But all he had felt in that moment was emptiness. The sky had been dark when he had glanced outside, so he had grabbed his luggage and made his way home in a daze, keeping his head bowed and avoiding eye contact with anyone who crossed his path.
The following weeks had been a whirlwind of confusion and anger and fear. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Armand was supposed to be with him, guiding him through the whole process, teaching him how to be a vampire. But his maker had abandoned him. Daniel had spent his days holed up in his apartment, sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the darkest corner of his living room, buried under layers of blankets, terrified of what would happen if he was accidentally exposed to sunlight. At night, when the hunger became unbearable, he would put his sunglasses on and haunt the streets of Manhattan, looking for easy targets. Clueless tourists, prostitutes, homeless people. Anyone would do.
It had taken him a long time to come to terms with the fact that Armand was probably never coming back. He had felt a pang in his chest he hadn't quite been able to understand, so he had simply resolved to not think about it.
One night he had been sitting at his desk, mindlessly browsing the web and trying to decide if he should finally cave in and order a coffin from an online store, when his eyes had fallen on a folder on his desktop. The name was "Dubai". His notes were there. The recordings were there. For the first time since coming back to New York, he had felt like he had a purpose. He had opened up a new text file and started to type.
"Feed on me. You'll recover faster."
Armand's voice brought him back to the present. He was still standing in front of Daniel, close but not touching him. They had done it a few times: Armand offering him his blood claiming it would make Daniel stronger, improve his vampire abilities. Daniel suspected it was just an excuse to tighten their bond, but he couldn't deny that every time he drank Armand's blood, he felt invigorated, alive, his whole body thrumming with energy. It was his own personal ambrosia.
He reached for Armand's hand, one sharp nail cutting a clean line along the skin of his wrist and leaving a crimson trail in its wake. He pressed his lips against the fresh wound, the taste immediately making him light-headed. He heard himself groan, but was too engrossed in the sensation of Armand's blood flowing over his tongue and down his throat to be embarrassed about it. Armand placed his free hand on the back of Daniel's neck, his thumb rubbing small circles against the base of his skull, and the groan turned into a shameless moan.
Daniel lifted his head with a gasp. Armand was looking at him with an adoring expression.
"My beautiful boy."
He ran his index finger down the side of Daniel's neck, his claw slashing the reddened skin, and leaned in to lick the blood that was welling up from the cut. He then grazed the sharp tips of his fangs along Daniel's throat, more blood coming to the surface, and captured the viscous rivulets with a long stroke of his tongue, before closing his lips around the wounds and sucking. Daniel had to clutch at his maker's waist to stay upright.
"I was never beautiful," Daniel breathed. "And I'm definitely not a boy anymore."
"You will always be my beautiful boy," Armand replied as he straightened up.
He dabbed at the two gashes with his index and middle finger and pressed both digits against Daniel's lower lip, smearing blood all over his mouth and chin. Daniel couldn't look away as Armand leaned closer, slowly, carefully, tilting his head to the side and licking the blood from the corner of Daniel's mouth.
'I will never love you...' Daniel thought as Armand's lips and tongue moved to his chin, licking him clean.
'I will never... love...' he repeated as he felt Armand's mouth hover above his, a mere breath away.
'I will... never...'
He didn't move away. He didn't turn his head, didn't shove Armand to the other side of the room – he was strong enough to do that now. Instead, he accepted the kiss, parting his lips and tasting his own blood mixed with Armand's on his maker's tongue. His maker. The vampire who had tortured him, erased his memory, stalked him for half a century. The same vampire who had turned him against his will, abandoned him, come back two years later and professed his undying love out of nowhere.
Daniel should be angry. He should be fucking furious. And he was sometimes. But as he was standing there with his arms wrapped around Armand and their lips pressed together, he felt a kind of peace he hadn't felt in years. Decades.
He had always known he was fucked up. But maybe he had only needed to find someone just as fucked up as him to feel complete.
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August 2026