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).
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 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 sleep.
The remnants of sleep pull you upward out of your cocoon when the laugh echoes off the walls again. Slowly you push the book into the pile of markers and pens, you forgo your slippers to slowly 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. 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. Something forged on years spent with one another. A love language between 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 murmurs some more, in broken french that makes her heart flutter even in the midst of her mind as it works 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.
She drapes the blanket more around her shoulders, pattering on purpose slowly into the room. A fist rubbing at her eyes in faux sleep, and Louis falls for it. 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 body. His hands settle on the skin of her back, exposed by the loose sleep shirt.
"Did I wake you my love?"
She grumbles, "no, 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. 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 named, but the number she quickly makes work of inputting into her phone.
Just when the final number is entered she hears his feet, and she quickly closes the tablet pushing it away. 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.
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 dear little bottomless pit, I can stomach to hear him speak of you."
"I'm..flattered?'
"I am sure you did not call with the intention of a simple conversation, mouse."
"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.
"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."
