based on this post about (hypothetical?) book!Daniel Molloy haters bc hating on a character for his puppy dog qualities is insanely funny to me
“This is outrageous!”
“Yes, beloved.”
“Absolutely uncalled for.”
“I know, beloved.”
“I mean, people hate on Lestat and Marius and you for legitimate reasons – even though I, of course, think that’s bullshit when it comes to you, because you’re sexy when you do morally questionable things–”
“Thank you, beloved.”
“But this?” Daniel threw his hands up. “Why am I the one with the biggest hater base when they’re literally hating on me for no reason? 'Daniel the Spaniel' they call me!"
Armand did not giggle at that. Daniel knew because he saw him raise a hand to hide his face behind his palm.
"Please!" Daniel scoffed. "I do not ‘trail after Armand like a lost puppy’!”
Gaze glued to his phone with the bird app opened, Daniel almost bumped into Armand when his maker stopped in his tracks. Armand turned around slowly, shooting a pointed look at Daniel, who had been, notably, trailing after Armand.
“Well, I’m not lost for one thing!” Daniel spluttered. “I’m exactly where I want to be!”
That conjured a smile on his maker’s face, which was a win in itself. Almost shy, Armand ducked his head and if he’d fed a little more recently, Daniel was sure he would’ve blushed. Fuck these twitterers! (Tweeters?) They didn’t get to see Armand like this, so how could they possibly understand?
“‘It’s annoying’, they say! ‘He has no personality other than simping for Armand’, they say. Do you think I’m annoying?”
“No, beloved.” He titled his head to the side, considering. “Well, only sometimes.”
“Only sometimes! Take that twitter user lestatstitty.” Daniel started typing furiously on his phone. “Also, I literally have other hobbies! Simping for Armand is a fulltime job, but I do have other things I like doing!”
“Yes?” Armand asked sweetly. “What is that, lover?”
“Well– journalism, for one thing!”
Because he loved him, Armand did not point out that Daniel had not written let alone investigated anything in decades. Because he still felt guilty about whisking him away from his mortal passions, Armand would never dare to mention such a thing to him at all. God, Daniel ached for him.
It didn’t matter anyway. Journalism was still as much part of him as his maker's blood in his veins had become over the years. And he had an eternity yet to go back to it after all. Maybe win a Pulitzer or two, even.
“Plus,” Daniel said haughtily. “I have my trains.”
“Oh, your trains are lovely!” Armand said immediately and Daniel preened.
“They are, aren’t they?” He said with no small amount of pride. “And we used to go to all kinds of events, back in the day, what’s boring about that?”
“I don’t think you’re boring,” said Armand helpfully.
“Thanks babe.” Daniel smiled. “And anyway, what’s so bad about simping for The Vampire Armand, hm? More people should do it.” In imitation of Armand's earlier gesture, he tilted his head to one side in consideration. “On second thought, no! No need to outsource what I’ve already mastered, right?”
“Yes, beloved.”
“I've just decided to lean into it, actually," Daniel announced, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "So you better get your leash out for this spaniel.”
Who needed Pulitzers? Armand’s laughter ringing out through the entire hall was, arguably, the best reward of all.
Otayuri prompt: Otabek is back home during the off season and Yuri is back in Russia and has been drinking with Victor and Yuuri. So he comes home and decides it’s a good idea to FaceTime Otabek because he’s drunk and wants to talk to his best friend and ends up telling him about his feelings 😊
About 1.1k!
Thank you for this prompt. As someone who is prone to give out far too much information when drinking, I know this feeling. I went with a sappy, soft drunk Yuri.
I hope you enjoy! Feel Free to prompt me some more if you enjoyed this fic!
Again only beta’d by me!
"That's enough, you should have Mila take you home" Georgi insisted as he reached for Yuri's glass of wine. Nearly eighteen, Yuri offered a physical complaint by pulling back quickly and downing the rest of the dark red liquid. "You'll regret that in the morning," Georgi scolded, Yuri simply glared and sat back in his chair.
Currently, at Old-Man and Piggy's place, Yuri was supposed to be celebrating something but all he could think about was the absence of Otabek.
His best friend had gone back to Kazakhstan just a day ago, leaving Yuri aching for something he couldn't name. Which was excuse enough for him to even bother with attending the party and drinking, not one, not two but fives glasses of expensive wine.
"I'm here to take you home, little kitten" Came Mila's voice as she threw Yuri's jacket over his lap.
"I'm not done," He protested weakly, lacking an insult. The energy he'd normally use to fire back had been spent in keeping his head up and eyes open.
"You are drunk and the party is over. The lovebirds are going to bed and I doubt you want to hear that," She told him, tugging at Yuri's wrist to hoist him up to shaky legs. Yuri followed without further complaint.
The cold Saint-Petersburg air was enough to shake away the grogginess that the alcohol provided, but it didn't take away the buzz. Sitting quietly in Mila's car he didn't bother to say or do anything aside from checking his phone at every sensation of a phantom vibration. Beka hadn't texted him beyond the 'I made it home' next that was customary when either of them traveled.
Outside his apartment, Mila offered to make sure he made it upstairs but Yuri felt brave enough to take the task on his own. It wasn't like he didn't know which room was his, he wasn't that drunk.
Fishing his keys out of his pocket he dropped them twice before successfully unlocking his door. Greeted by mewling, he barely managed to avoid stepping on his precious Potya. She insisted on being petted before Yuri even kicked off his shoes.
Falling onto his couch Yuri fumbled with his phone for a second, as Potya settled on his lower stomach, kneading this shirt prior to curling up. He unlocked his phone with ease despite his buzzed state. Out of boredom, he went through his pictures, the ones he posted on Instagram were nothing compared to the ones he saved on his phone. The current album named 'Beka' had been filling his phone to capacity with images of the two of them.
Beka wasn't really the type to take selfies but with Yuri he did. He'd hold still long enough for Yuri to take a million rapid-fire pictures before deleting most of them and insisting they do it again. Yuri claimed he wanted only the best on his Instagram, but that wasn't the case. Instagram was for boring, mostly promotional pictures, the ones he took with Beka were for his own personal collection. For days when missing his best friend felt like going without a limb.
Rotating to be on his side, Potya gave a meow of protest before finding herself a different, less mobile, place to sleep. He really shouldn't call Beka considering the time. It was nearing midnight which meant it was closer to 3am there. But the wine that settled in his stomach had provided him a little bit of courage. The worst that could happen would be Beka be annoyed and not answer or answer and tell Yuri to go to sleep.
"Yura? Are you okay?" Answered Otabek, his voice husky from sleep, eyes half closed on the small screen of Yuri's phone.
"I'm fine, can't sleep," Yuri flubbed the truth, holding the phone at the right angle to have just his face in view.
"Did you try sleeping?" Otabek asked, pushing himself to sit up, giving Yuri a fleeting glimpse of Beka's torso, tan skin, and hard muscles.
"No..I just got home," Yuri replied, looking away from the screen, pretending to be calling for Potya.
"Home from practice? Its almost midnight, what did you do. Did you piss off Coach Feltsmen?" Otabek asked, his questions going too fast for Yuri's alcohol addled brain to process at the once.
"No no no no no, Old man and Piggy had a party. I went and Mila just dropped me off," Yuri explained, sitting up a bit, using the arm of the couch for support.
"Oh, that's cool, I hope you had fu-"
"I didn't,"
"Why not?" Otabek questioned, concern heavy in his voice.
"I missed you,"
"You missed me?" His tone was closer to confusion. They had just spent two weeks of vacation time together. Otabek would agree he missed Yuri but he had already made plans to visit again. Being away from Yuri was only temporary.
"Of course I missed you! You are like my left leg!" Yuri told him, a bit forceful then he intended. A flush formed in his cheeks and he felt the urge to drop his phone and pretend the battery had died.
"Left leg? What do you mean?" Otabek pressed, it was far too early for him to be on his game with translating Yuri's over the top and dramatic statements.
"You are like my leg, so when you are gone I'm without a leg," Yuri explained again, throwing his head back and covering his face with his arm. It warmed a hidden part of Otabek's heart when he realized what Yuri meant. It furthered his smile to see his best friend flustered by his admission.
"I miss you too," Otabek told him, his tone comforting after a moment of quiet.
"Really?"
"Of course, I missed you from the moment I let go of you at the airport," Otabek confessed, finding his own cheeks flush.
"Go back to bed Beka," Yuri told him, uncovering his eyes and offering him one of those secret smiles. The ones reserved for Potya and now Beka.
"Get to bed, I'll call you tomorrow after practice," Otabek told him but Yuri made no effort to end the call.
"Promise?" Yuri asked, his voice losing its earlier wine-induced courage. He was softer in his moment, a vulnerability only seen by Otabek.
"Pinky-promise," Otabek told him, offering up his free hand the pinky toward the camera. Yuri copied him with a slight chuckle. They ended the call mutually but Yuri made no effort to go to his room. His bed was far too lonely, lacking the weight of a certain best friend. Instead, he curled up on the couch and slept with his phone tight in his hand. A picture of the two of them now his lock screen, a soft gentle reminder that missing him was worth it.
A whisper against his ear, soft as a butterfly's wing. Daniel swatted it away like an irritating fly.
Daniel!
More insistent now. Daniel scrunched his nose at it, pulled his pillow over his head to drown it out.
Until the pillow was ripped straight out of his grip. His heart pounding against his ribcage woke him up efficiently enough. Daniel sat up, his eyes flitting to every corner of the dingy motel room.
Nothing.
The pillow had been ripped from him by an invisible force and was now lying at the far side of the room. Daniel scowled at it. “I’m not in the mood!” he groused. His heart pounded harder at his own insolence. What was he thinking, provoking the monster haunting his every sleeping and waking moment? But then, he thought he deserved a little bit of snark, after all that the literal devil on his back put him through. A good night's sleep wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He let himself fall onto his back again and pulled the blanket over his chest.
The blanket flew through the air and joined his pillow on the floor.
“Really?” Daniel glowered into the darkness, certain that Armand would hear no matter where he was hiding.
Daniel, the voice he now realized was projecting straight into his brain instead of against his ear said again. Get out.
“No!” Daniel refused. “You come get me if you want it so bad! I’m not moving an inch.”
You have to get out now!! the voice repeated, and Daniel could practically hear the exclamation marks. A fire will swallow your lodgings up in a matter of minutes.
Now what game was that? Trying to herd Daniel out to pounce on him out in the dark, cold night? No, Daniel wasn’t in the mood to play. He was tired. With almost childish obstinacy, he pressed his face into the mattress.
The whole mattress lifted into the air.
For a second, Daniel clung to it in breathless shock. Before the mattress could rise too high, he rolled over, tried to dampen his landing on the floor with by now more or less practiced ease – he had become used to being thrown around enough to know how to fall. A dull pain around his shoulder was all he took from the fall, and that faded quickly. Scowling, Daniel sat up and watched the mattress sink down onto the bedframe again.
Now, Daniel.
“Okay!” Daniel shouted into the empty room. “Okay, whatever, I’ll play your stupid game.” Still, he took his sweet time getting dressed, putting his leather jacket over the shirt he’d worn the day before and lacing his boots with greater care than he usually applied to the action.
Daniel. If Daniel didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn there was a hint of panic laced into the voice now. Daniel took pity on him, stood up fully and dusted off his jeans. He threw the few belongings he’d unpacked back into his shoulder bag and walked over to the door.
In shock, he ripped his hand back from the doorknob. It was hot to the touch! Impossibly hot.
With a dawning sense of horror, Daniel realized Armand wasn’t lying. This wasn’t a game. The motel was really burning. Real fear gripped him for the first time since he’d been woken up so ruthlessly. Fear for his life.
The window, Daniel.
Daniel didn’t have to be told twice. He was on the second floor, but that hardly mattered to him now. Without second thought, he threw open the window, pushed out his bag and then let his own body follow.
Just as he’d hoped, strong hands caught him before he could hit the ground. He’d pressed his eyes close as he jumped, and now he let himself relish the moment a little while longer. The cool night air playing with his hair. Strong arms under his knees and shoulders holding him up bridal style.
Then he opened his eyes, and that made everything even better: There was Armand’s head above him, looking down at him in a weird angle, expression entirely blank. Backlit by the cloudless night sky and the building engulfed in violent yellow and orange and black from the smoke (the motel was really burning!), he was rendered impossibly more breathtaking. Or was it Armand’s face that made the night sky more beautiful? Impossible to tell.
“Hi,” Daniel said through a grin.
“Hello, Daniel,” Armand said wryly. “You took your time.”
“You made me jump.” And then caught me, Daniel thought. Could’ve let me splat, break a few bones. Make me crawl on all fours to get away. Interesting choice not to go with that option.
Without any warning, Armand dropped him. Sudden, but gracefully enough that the motion allowed Daniel to land on his feet instead of his butt.
Interesting, interesting.
Armand didn’t wait for him to gather his bearings and instead walked ahead, away from the burning motel. He used a mortal pace for his gait. Daniel bent down to get his bag, slung the strap over his shoulder and jogged ahead to catch up.
“Did you start that fire?” Curiosity urged the question out of him.
Armand didn’t answer.
Did the vampire start that fire just to sweep in like a knight in shining armor to save him? Not really his style, was it? So far, the game had been mostly about scaring the shit out of Daniel, not saving his measly human life!
Daniel scoffed at his own internal monologue. “Why bother?” he wondered aloud. “Could’ve just left me in there to burn to ashes. Isn’t that what you want? To kill me?”
Armand stayed silent. In fact, he didn’t even look his way, gracing Daniel with no more than his profile, the delicate slope of his nose and the hint of his lips curving into a frown…
“Let the fire do the work,” Daniel continued. Talking always served well to disperse his thoughts when they went in a direction the vampire wouldn’t, perhaps, appreciate. “Wouldn’t that have been convenient to you?”
Armand’s head snapped around. For a moment, Daniel thought he could see something like indignation on his face, and something else he couldn’t quite identify. If only it weren’t so dark. Daniel half wished they were closer to the fire so that the flames might reflect on Armand’s face just what he was hiding so desperately. Then the moment passed, and cool indifference replaced the expression on Armand’s face. “That’s not how this works,” he said serenely, turning his profile to him again and resuming his slow stroll. “You will not get out of this so easily.”
“Death by fire is an easy way out. Right, sure.” Falling into step beside Armand, he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket. In fact, burning was one of the most harrowing deaths Daniel could imagine, and these past few years running from Armand had given him a pretty broad variety of ideas about what gruesome ways to die could be invented. Beside him, Armand’s hand twitched in… anxiety?
Halting his steps, Daniel grinned. “You know what I think?”
He waited until Armand stopped as well and turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in question, eyes almost glazed over as though the answer didn't actually matter to him at all and he was just humoring him.
Daniel grinned brighter and leaned his upper body forward a fraction. “I think you like me.”
Fire flashed in Armand’s eyes but that only inflamed Daniel's curiosity further. “You saved me because you don’t want me to die. Because you like me. Come on, admit it, it can happen–”
The air was punched out of his lungs when Armand suddenly lunged at him and slammed him against the nearest wall. Hard stone dug into Daniel’s back, the hard line of Armand’s body against him at the front, an unrelenting pressure where Armand’s fingers clawed into his shirt, ripping the fabric and just slightly piercing the skin of his chest. But enough to lace the air with the coppery scent of his blood. “Do not assume to know me!” Armand hissed, baring his fangs at him. “You are nothing to me! You are an ant trapped underneath my boot. I want to play with you like with a rat in a lab, nothing more.”
“Nothing more,” Daniel echoed, breathless, but the wild trembling of Armand’s pupils tugged the corners of his mouth up into a grin again. And then, before common sense could stall the urge, Daniel surged forward and pressed his lips against Armand’s. That feral monster holding him captive with more than just brute force.
Armand’s lips were, in contrast to his demeanor, surprisingly soft.
In that first moment that probably stunned both of them, he yielded to the touch. Leaned into the kiss. And it was a lovely kiss. A kiss that made Daniel long for more, so it felt only natural that he would part his lips, trace the tip of his tongue over Armand’s upper lip to request entry, and for a delicious second, Armand yielded to this advance, too. His lips parted.
His mouth was cold. Delicious. It made him shiver.
Daring to reach out, he slid his hand up over Armand’s shoulder, found bare skin at his nape and that was cold, too, his skin. The skin of a dead man. He hadn’t fed, Daniel deduced with the sole part of his brain that was, apparently, still functioning, and the thought thrilled him to his bones. He could drink from Daniel. Daniel didn’t understand why he hadn’t, yet.
He deepened the kiss, moaned into Armand’s mouth–
And then suddenly: a pressure.
Even more forceful than before, pushing Daniel harder against the stone, just for a moment. In the next, it was gone entirely, and Daniel stumbled a step forward as though to chase the touch.
Breathing heavily, Daniel blew his eyes wide, blinked through the darkness. There Armand was, a good thirty feet ahead of him, staring back at him with huge orange eyes. An eery light in the dark. A color rivalling that fire that still raged behind them.
“You–” Armand snapped, but cut himself off just as quickly.
“I– I thought you’d–” Daniel stuttered.
In the next breath, Armand was gone.
Daniel didn’t know it yet, as he stood there in the dim moonlight trying to catch his breath, but Armand would remain gone for a long time. A long, lonely summer in which he did not see the vampire even once.
Until that fatal day in Italy that would change everything.
The door has barely fallen into its hinges when Daniel asks, “Do you think they like me?”
Since he's already in the process of moving over to the other side of the room, Armand has his back turned to him as he slips out of his cashmere cardigan and hangs it gingerly on its assigned coat hanger in their (now shared) closet. Like this, Daniel cannot see his face, which is why he allows that mild smile to creep onto his face when he answers, “Of course they do.”
But Daniel makes a noise that sounds like a blend between a huff and a snort. “You’re just saying that because…”
Armand whirls around to face him when Daniel doesn’t elaborate, smile firmly in place now, half-amused, half-fond. “Because what, Daniel?” He steps closer to Daniel who straightens immediately, abandoning his attempt to slip out of his shoes (which he should’ve left at the doorstep before entering but Armand will let it slide just this once). When Armand places his hand on Daniel’s cheek, he leans into it like second nature and Armand thrives on knowing what effect he has on his boy. “Because I love you?”
Daniel actually blushes. In the warm golden light of the dimmable ceiling lights, it makes his pale face look especially handsome. “Yeah. That.”
Pleased, Armand smiles wider. “I will admit to a certain bias,” he amends. “But it’s true that Sybelle adores you. And Benji thinks you're the funniest vampire in the entire coven. An opinion which I, of course, share.”
“Aw shucks.” Daniel tries to bite into Armand’s thumb in an attempt to distract from the red heat that spreads further on his face. “Not a grand feat when most of this folk is dreadfully serious at best, or downright gloomy at the worst.” He flutters his eyelashes up at Armand. “Except you, of course.” A little belatedly he adds, “And the kids.”
Once they’ve changed into their pajamas, they brush their teeth side by side in front of the sink, occasionally sneaking childish glances at each other through the bathroom mirror as though their revived romance were a secret even in the privacy of their own bathroom. Save for his occasional humming, Daniel is silent through it all until they crawl into bed, side by side, and slip under the covers.
Then, Daniel turns his head towards him. The motion flattens the curls on the right side of his head in a way that makes him look strangely cute. “You sure tonight went well?”
“More than.” Armand resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You were witty and charming and said the right things at the right time. It’s fine. Don’t worry so much, beloved. ”
“This makes me nervous, sue me,” Daniel says. “I wanna do right by your family.”
Something swells in Armand’s chest. Something that feels solid and fragile all at the same time. Family, Daniel says. So casually, like it’s a known fact. Like the four of them are a unit, a togetherness. Not to be separated.
Solid and fragile it tastes, that word on the tip of Armand’s tongue when he shapes it voicelessly with his mouth. Like a bird on an open palm who might fly away or end up crushed within your grip. But looking at Daniel who is looking back with wide eyes, Armand reminds himself that Daniel, too, must be feeling this fragility between them. That as his maker, it is Armand’s job to assure him of the solidity of their bond. So, “You are my family,” Armand says to him, feels the truth of it with all his heart. “You are part of it as much as Benji and Sybelle are.”
Daniel tries to hide it, but the glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes doesn’t escape Armand’s notice. It soothes some of the rawness within Armand. He no longer knows which of them is the hand that holds and which is the bird begging to be crushed in its grip. “Yeah,” Daniel says, voice breathy. “I’m your firstborn.”
“The first,” Armand agrees as he rolls half on top of him so they’re chest to chest under the covers, and he frames Daniel’s face between his hands. “And the last. My only.”
The answer breathed out like a prayer, “Yours.”
Armand can’t be sure if Daniel meant to say that aloud, if he’s even aware he said it but even so, he presses his mouth against Daniel's like he can swallow the word right into himself.
“The funniest vampire in the coven,” Armand says, punctuating his words with a kiss to Daniel’s cheek. “And the prettiest,” to his temple, “Smartest,” to his forehead, “Most irritating,” to his nose, but before he can go on, Daniel tangles his fingers in his shirt and shoves lightly at his chest, making Armand look at him.
“Irritating?” He protests. “Hey!”
“Irritating, yes,” Armand hums. “Quite a feat, considering your strongest contender is Lestat himself.”
“Well, okay, I'll take it,” Daniel grumbles, but it's half-hearted, a sliver of satisfaction shining through a little too obviously. "Long as I'm your most everything.”
“Most everything, yes,” agreed Armand readily, and drops his head down to capture Daniel’s lips in another long kiss.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"They were barely ten minutes into the movie when the madman climbed into Daniel's lap, pressed his palm over his mouth, and locked bright orange eyes on his. Stay still, he whispered, straight into his head. I don't want to miss a single scene."
Armand has his revenge for the ruined opera night. ^_^
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy
Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy
Additional Tags: Young Daniel Molloy, Devil's Minion Era (Vampire Chronicles), Pre-Relationship, September in San Francisco Fandom Event (Vampire Chronicles)
Words: 1,540
Summary:
A few years into the chase, Daniel and Armand take a stroll along the riverbank.
