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black fanfic writer | multi-fandom | requests are always open | I hope you all enjoy my fanfics!

[m0chisenpai]

Mochi's World ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀

23 | black | she/her | infj

welcome to my little slice of life, my little bakery! you can call me mochi! i am a black writer who writes for my fellow melanated sisters! all my characters I write for are black coded and if that offends you sorry boo <3 click the links below to learn about me and my blog!

learn about the baker | masterlist | commission me! | send a coffee | wattpad

commissions are currently: open

requests are currently: open

[m0chisenpai]

I watched ep 1 of the vampire Lestat and heres an interesting thought that came up for me (spoiler…ish?)

I find it interesting that some of the memes I’ve seen floating around since Sunday are how incoherent and chaotic Lestat’s narration style is. Now I read the book last year and plan to read it again and I feel like it’s following the tone and emotion of someone who feels extremely slighted and has to one up. But another thing I find fascinating is how people say Louis’ narration was more coherent and easy to follow along. Now, follow me on this thought.

Is Louis a coherent storyteller, or is he just repeating whatever Armand allowed? Yes Lestat is all over the place in the first episode and I look forward to see how he narrates his side and his life. But when Lestat spoke it felt very much more emotional and humane like was in control whereas when Louis spoke it felt like he was being pupeteered. Very bland, one single cadence, like I seldom recall that man raising his voice fr. Now I don’t fault Louis for being a “liar” considering he had a Armand override on his memories and plus trauma can screw memories up so badly, but I kind of like the two different narrations and it just sucked me in.

I don’t know, maybe its just me but I just found this so fascinating and we’re only one episode in.

[m0chisenpai]

(I have yet to see the lost boys musical, got plans hopefully to see it my bday weekend) but the vibe I'm getting from the fics I've peeked at: Star pulls Michael and David told homegirl, "move behind me" and turned into 'Mr.Steal Your Boy'?

[m0chisenpai]

working on a journalist reader au with loustat. I feel like journalist with loustat is a MENACE compared to her being with loumand, what’s yall thoughts?

[m0chisenpai]

are you still gonna be working on the “off the record” series with reader and loumand? It’s absolutely amazing and for that reason I’ve been constantly re-reading. I absolutely love your work !! no pressure at all about updating it either. ☺️

I am! I don't know if you saw but I dropped another little chapter in the series, just teasing a possible bump in their little relationship with season 3 of iwtv. I have a few little one shots I want to drop but they're half done and unedited

[m0chisenpai]

(personal ick so don't jump me in the comments) but I HATE a fic that starts off with the MC pregnant, and for over half the book she's knocked up. and I know it's not just me, that's not fluff no matter how you try to write it, in my mind i'm reading a cautionary tale/nightmare and I want nothing to do with them.

[m0chisenpai]

question that you can ignore, but would you consider writing a part 2 for “bittersweet symphony”. I’m so drawn to your writing, and your plot lines are so intriguing.

Oh for sure will be doing a follow up just taking my time with the draft

[tojisteddy]

I think a lot of white people (and others who lack nuance) don’t see Sinners as a horror movie because they’re so desensitized to racism.

I need everyone to conceptualize: they all were going to die when the Klan popped up in the morning if Remmick hadn’t gone to that club and fvcked it up.

They were looking for them come sunrise. Thousands of black people have family they never saw again because of racism, to this day it still happens. Tamla Horsford never being seen alive after a sleep over with her friend group that was all wh!te women. Horror. Tory Medley being found hanging from a tree in a golf course in Wisconsin in early November. There are so many sundown towns around the US to this day. They were having l*nching picnics.

That’s horror.

plus the gore, blood— a vampire who’s been around for centuries wanting to take black (and asian) people’s culture to live longer and take their culture— horror.

[m0chisenpai]

little poppet

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black fem!journalist!reader x armand

˚｡⋆ lestat de lioncourt x black fem!journalist!reader

in which you find yourself on the radar of am up and coming rock star who, p.s, was semi-married to your current lover and ran circles on your second.

random thoughts of journalist!reader and lestat i have so many thoughts after watching trailers and recent clips for season 3 and they are STRICTLY platonic (for now).

journalist series: part 1, part 2, part 3

It was a quiet evening, the last months have been so. The three of them allow the domesticity to be a blanket over the interview that was held a few months prior. For a moment, their little journalist plays the role of the loving...girlfriend? You wear their bites on the wrist of your arm. That is enough to symbolize something between the three of you.

But that sits in the back of your mind now, the sunset bathes you in its warm afternoon glow. A discarded book sits on your lap, its spine cracked, penned in thoughts along the edges. Just before your eyes can fully shut a hearty laugh jolts you out of your incoming nap.

You grumble, now you definitely ca't sleep.

The remnants of sleep pull you upward out of your cocoon when the laugh echoes off the walls again. At first you stomp to chide at whoever decided to disturb your sleep. You push the book into the pile of markers and pens, and forgo your slippers to follow the boisterous laughter. It's not from your room, not from the dinning room.

And then you hear it, a whisper in the tree room followed by another laugh your petty anger fizzles out and turns into suspicion. Who is Louis laughing with like that? And a second voice, french accented echoing off the walls. Everything in her bones tells her to ignore it, they give her privacy therefore she ought to return the favor.

But a stubbornness in her causes her feet to slowly inch towards the wall where she presses her back to the wall.

He sounds coy, but not in the way he is with her. His tone reminds her of how her mother and father quipped, petty, but beneath playful jabs a gentle old love is clear. Something forged on years spent with one another. A love language between seasoned lovers. And that makes her heart thump, in anxiety? No She takes a few deep breaths, because if it beats any faster he'll know she's listening.

He's allowed to speak with whomever he wishes.

But who is he laughing with like that if now you or Armand?

We can't be jealous.

He murmurs some more, in broken french that makes her heart flutter even in the midst of the inner debate she halts. Right now it tries to decipher who this mystery person is. So she clears her throat, loud enough for him to be alerted that she is near and awake.

This plan could go smoothly, or ass up. Either way, we're finding out.

We could just ask-

Hell no.

She drapes the blanket more around her shoulders, pattering on purpose slowly into the room.The knuckle of her pointer finger rubs beneath her eyes in faux sleep, and Louis falls for it in an instant. He rushes the mystery caller off the tablet soon as she makes her to the steps, taking them slowly one at the time into his awaiting arms that encircle her waist beneath her blanket concoon His hands settle on the skin of her back, exposed by the loose sleep shirt.

"Did I wake you my love?"

She grumbles, "no, I was looking for you."

He huffs now pulling her fully atop his lap.

"Is this you askin' or telling me to join you for your nap?"

"Neither, but..." she trails off slowly rubbing where his heart should be, tracing absent-minded patterns atop the v-necked sweater he wears.

"You want your tea?" He fills in the gap easily. She smiles, sleepily pecking his lips once.

"And my book? Thought we could finish it together?"

He tilts his head in faux thought, "hmm gonna need a much better kiss."

She can't fight the genuine smile that as she leans forward, slowly and languidly gracing those lips with a proper kis. Louis takes his time, allow his eyes to flutter shut and his hand to cup her jaw and pull her deeper.

"Be a moment cher," he whispers against her lips. And when she opens her eyes she sits where he once did. She works fast. The password? Her date of birth and in an instant she finds the video calling app where the recent number sits, no name, but the number she quickly makes work of typing into her phone.

Just when the final number is entered she hears his feet, and she quickly closes the tablet pushing it away to its previous spot. She almost feels guilty when he carefully walks toward her, the wooden tray holding a pot of freshly brewed hibiscus blend Armand gifted, with her book and pens which he arranges in front of her.

But even as he reads by her side, allowing her head to settle atop his shoulder, she hears the laughter echoing in the back of her head and one mission sits front and center: find the one who could make him feel that much joy.

Having worked with Daniel for so long, she finds herself to have picked up on his silent philosophy of hearing all sides of the story. Hence why during the suns peak, she goes to work.

She makes sure to go to a cafe, far from the penthouse without the use of the driver assigned by her lovers. When she trusts that she is a comfortable enough distance she makes the call, and a french droll enters her ear.

"Louis?," it inquires. She should hang up. but curiosity is why she chose the career she is in. The voice coos his name once more. So she straightens her spine.

"No, and shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Who is this?" Any playfulness or kindness dropped in an instant replaced with a razor sharp tone.

"A..reporter," he huffs.

"Hm, and how exactly little mouse did you get this number? You do know I could report you to the proper authorities?"

"No, no please I just...I worked, work for Daniel Molloy and I just have a question, a few."

The voice pauses. "Ahhh, you are the little reporter Louis mentioned."

This gets her attention and she leans both her elbows forward on the table. "He mentioned me?"

"Mhm, he speaks highly of you, apart from his darling little bottomless pit, I can stomach to hear him speak of you. He tells me of your...project. You have my congratulations."

"I'm..flattered?'

"You're welcome. Now I am sure you did not call with the intention of a simple conversation, mouse." it's clear in his tone he is not asking and she immediately straightens up.

"No, I have some questions. Some things I would like to clear up away from...certain ears." Her drink arrives, a treat beside and the worker giving her a polite smile before walking away. She nervously taps her keyboard. "I heard you, on the phone with him. I was there during the interview. And, I think your commentary and memories would add onto my project."

Silence.

Had she pushed to far? Her hands nerovusly reach to fiddle witht eh straw in her drink. Then his voice breaks her mental spiral.

"Very well, mouse, but there are a few terms of my own I have if we are to do this. Hopefully Louis has not been teaching you any french these days, you'll find a better tutor in Armand, do not tell him of this call, poppet."

You finally exhale, "you have my word sir."

"Please, Lestat is fine mouse."

[m0chisenpai]

MY GOAT IS BACK 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Making my return has me feeling like I'm Glinda fr 😂😂

[m0chisenpai]

I miss your loumand x reader writing babe hope you’re doing well! :)

I've got something secretly cooking in the vault for season 3 and a crack/fluff crossover piece with what we do in the shadows!

So excited to revive my favorite pair

[m0chisenpai]

I just wanted to say your writing is perfect and I’m in love with your style

Ahhh thank you lovey!

[savedenji]

[m0chisenpai]

bittersweet symphony

˚｡⋆ lestat de lioncourt x black fem!reader x

in which you find yourself entangled in a twisted dance with your immortal brother

“Sister…dearest one please…” the blonde snake gurgles on his blood looking upon you. For a moment pity overtakes you. But all you can do is stare back into those baby blue eyes. They remind you of her. Remind you of the closet, the mental tormenting. It’s his eyes that stop years of instinct to protect, nurture and love.

Though your body feels sticky with the blood of those who were victim of your bloodlust, you slowly sink to the ground. Offer him the peace of your eyes which are completely void of any love, Claudia’s hand comes upon your shoulder.

You feel a phantom of his pain, your throat and eyes burn. But your heart does not break. What does he think now? Does he wish to slit your own throat? Does he wish he'd murdered you when Gabrielle dropped you upon his door step so many years ago?

‘How did it come to this, my dearest brother?’

When Gabrielle found you, she plucked you from the seedy night life of France. You were born and raised in the business of pleasure. Your mother made a pretty penny, and when you were close to the age of womanhood you too would join her side. But Gabrielle quickly plucked you away.

You saw her eyes in crowds, felt her voice in the dark of night. It nearly drove you insane. Like an itch you can not find, or a thought you can not bring to remembrance, she was there.

Then it happened.

One evening, a carriage much too clean slowed to a stop in the front of the light post you leaned against. Her figure exuded elegance and wealth when her hand, clad in fine jewels held out enough money for your mother to turn and eye when she beckoned you into the carriage, her smile, the way she called you dear one.

She was the serpent and you were Eve.

She led you into the luxurious home, expecting a husband or man to await, but instead you are told to strip down to be cleaned.

She had you bathed, scrubbed from head to toe down to the dirt and grime beneath your nails. You were given a dress, something the maids wore, and now she carefully worked on grooming your hair while your fingers picked apart the meal brought up by her staff.

She sat behind you, as your own mother once did, and ran a brush through your hand. But you felt more like one of the runts you caught eating the scraps tossed into the gutters. She ran her hand through your curls, the soft bristles of the brush through at a slow methodical rhythm that was slowly lulling you into sleep. The loose curls she would slowly coil around her finger and watch them bounce in place.

"He will love you dearly," she whispered it. To you, and to herself. She knew she would leave.

”What’s his name?” You asked around a piece of bread.

“Lestat. My son, one of them. Don’t speak with your mouth full, dear one.”

Embarrassed, you swallowed then gave her the final question she’d heard already in your mind. ”Sorry ma’am. There are others?”

”There are. But Lestat clung to me differently than his brothers.” When she speaks of him, you hear a smile, her tone sounds lighter. "My sweet boy."

Gabrielle's life was one you dreamed of. A life of being served, quiet, away from men whose stares made your skin crawl. The smell of rot and dampness no longer pulluted your nose or clung to your body as it once did. You ate three meals a day, wore clothes that weren't stolen off anthers back. All of this was enough for you to slowly turn a blind eye to whether your mother was looking for you.

Nor did you onder what exactly this woman was preparing you for.

Perhaps he was a man of war and you were a gift to await him, then it would be back to your soiled sheets, shared with your mother.

But slowly, something sinister rose with each day as your mistress showed a side to her that was extremely inhuman. Her presence was never around in the daylight hours, only when the skies were dark did she arrive, forcing you to switch you rhours of day to sleep through the day time and awake in the evening with her.

Lestat was mentioned daily as she groomed and trained you. Gabrielle did not need to raise her voice, her tone would turn cold as ice as her fingers pinched your cheek or elbows when you messed up. She hammered etiquette into your mind, music, proper French not the poor slang that came out of your mouth and slowly you acquired English. Your lessons slowly began in the mornings and afternoons which you spent with tutors to the evenings with her.

You slowly began to sleep less each passing day, only managing one or two hours, three if you were to lucky enough to learn she was gone.

Her process of tearing you down to be built back up in her image was slow and methodical. But you would soon be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister and lover for her son. She knew you were ready when you put an end to trying to step out in the sun. You stopped sobbing and begging for your mother and in turn she stopped locking you in the closet during one of your tantrums.

That's the day when she dresses you in a beautiful gown, finally allows you to bathe on your own and adds a touch of rouge to your lips and cheeks.

Your eyes remain ahead though you listen keenly to what blows pass the carriage. You approach a home equal in Gabrielle's extravagence. Even though she moves to exit, you remain still. Hands folded atop your lap that you warch keenly.

"Gabrielle," The man calls. He takes the woman by her arms and presses a gentle kiss close to the corner of her mouth.

"Lestat, my heart, I've a gift for you."

You are made visible to him when Antoinette holds her hand to gently guide you out and it's as though he is being presented with a new pet with how he coos and awes. She places both hands atop your shoulders to maneuver you in front of her body

His hands finally move from his mouth as he slowly approaches you with outstretched hands that rest atop his mothers hands.

"What a beautiful gift."

"Dearest one, no, sweet sister of mine." He cups your cheeks, turns them side to side. The snake is satisfied, you know not to let this thought linger. You learned first hand when Gabrielle struck you unconscious to keep any thoughts in ink. His nails trace the trail of freckles that encapsulated your eyes that blink up at him, big and brown.

He leads the two of you inside. Into a beautiful parlor with a grand piano that he catches you eyeing when you sit carefully beside Antoinette.

”Do you play dear one?”

”Lady Li-“

”Mother my dear,” Gabrielle coos taking hold of your folded hand. A warning, not in any true comfort.

”Mother, has been teaching me. She tells me you play.”

”Come,” he lifts the instrument and leaves a space on the bench where you slide beside him. Your hands rest and play a few small keys which Lestat turns into a gorgeous melody. His shoulder bumps into yours catching your eyes he smiles down upon you. You offer a shy one back that he happily drinks in.

”You’ve a gift my dear.” He whispers it into your ear. His lips nearly press a kiss into your cheek and are gone returning to the keys.

"Will you teach me?" You look up at him through your lashes. "No doubt my time would earn me even a fraction of your skill."

His eye sparkle in the candlelight when he leans, as though he is telling you the secrets of the world, "how can I say no to such beautiful request."

Perhaps it is the late hour, the missed meals, the lullaby that he begins to play ringing in your ears. But you fight a yawn from bubbling up. Your eyes blink slowly until your hands come to a slow stop and your body slumps into Lestat who catches your body with one arm while the other ends the melody.

“Will you, Gabrielle? Or shall I?”

“That is for you to decided Lestat,” She stands to slowly stand behind you while Lestat cradles you in his arms. Her hand cradles the nape of your neck to turn and expose the naked flesh of your throat. “I have created her in mind but you shall have her blood and spirit Lestat. This is my gift to you while I am asleep.”

Her finger slowly presses till a bead of blood blossoms and Lestat dives the moment her hand moves to sink his teeth. He is gentle in drinking until your breathing slows down, and he nurses you with his wrist. Watchig how even in sleep, you cling to his wrist until he pulls it from you.

Surely you are meant to be his, why else would you so willingly drink him in. Someone will finally stay. He brushes the hair from your face as he holds you tight when the Gfit slowly begins to end your life. In your sleep you dream of heaven, and a voice sings to you as you sit in clouds of gold. The voice sounds like gold. And a chalice appears in your hand filled with a warm liquid that tastes of milk, honey and something divine.

But slowly it turns evil, your golden clouds turn gray, and you fall. You watch as the heavens melt away and turn darker and you grow hotter screaming and begging for mercy until the second you hit the ground you shoot upward grasping at your chest.

"Did you sleep well, sister?" His back is to you while he hums a melody that makes your ears burn.

"No," you shiver. "I want to go home. I want my mother. I..." the words stop quickly.

"Shh," he placates your whimpers to sit in front of you. "You are safe. She has gone." His hand holds the nape of your neck, slowly stroking it.

"Come, I have something for you." He stands from the bed pulling you up slowly. His hand wraps around your waist while the other holds your hand and he matches your slow steps. You feel everything and yet nothing in this moment allowing him to lead you sown the hall into the eastern wing of the home.

"No one but you and I are allowed in this place. Think of it as our own little sanctuary," he leans down to whisper into your ear. He releases your hand to produce a key from his pocket and unlock a pair of doors, he pushes you in first. And when you both enter he closes the doors shut and locks you again.

You feel ice in your veins as your eyes take in the room which slowly illuminates as Lestat slowly lights the candles. A grand mirror, the fireplace is large and shines of marble as does the floor. To your right, another mirror and a wardrobe.

"While you were asleep I had a few errands taken care of. I know in my younger days I too was scared of it, so for the time being you may share mine." He speaks of it so casually and when the fireplace is set the room comes to life and a shriek cracks the silence.

A coffin.

Two coffins.

Center of the room, slowly you back away. It dawns on you. The dream was no trick of your imagination, it was a warning.

"Let me out, let me out. Get away!" You screech backing away from him falling to the ground. Why is your voice so loud. Why does it burn to even breath, it's as though your body rejects the air it once needed.

"Sh, sh, mon ange, I undertand you are confused breath." He crouches and approaches you like an animal.

"You are like her. You...I am not the same. Oh mama," you whimper when your back hits the door and press your face against your knees as you curl into a pathetic ball of tears and whimpers. You cry for your mother and he let's you until you have nothing left.

"You are not alone mon ange, we have one another. I swear." But there is no love as he holds your shuddering form. All he can do is sit his chin atop your head, and close his eyes. Because he is no longer alone. The ache is gone with you close in his arms. His fledgling, his sister. You canhate him now, he will give you the time to learn to love him.

He can be patient for you, sweet sister.

[m0chisenpai]

I feel like I could write for Lestat. But my heart is always gonna belong to Loumand

[m0chisenpai]

chile they just dropped the cast for the lost boys musical

[m0chisenpai]

hi! So I've recently found your journalist! Reader x loumand writings and I really love it all!!

So firstly, thank you for sharing and writing it all! I love it when people share their writing because it's so beautiful.

Secondly, will you write any more for them? Obviously it's no worry if not, life is like that and it's appreciated that you've done what you've already done, but I think a lot of people (including myself) would love reading more!

Again no worries if not, it's your life and your choice and we'll obviously respect it!!

Thank you again!!!

awwwww, im honestly glad to hear more people are finding and reading the journalist series!

to be completely honest... i don't know what more to add onto the series? i have two pieces i started for it and kind of paused that i might release once i finish them. but at the moment i have not written new as of recently. im thinking of maybe doing some au's or scenarios outside of the main events that have happened with it?

what would you all be interested in reading?