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onlybeeewrites · 24 days ago

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A Sweet Lullaby

Request: Coriolanus Snow x fem reader: where she’s in the games and she sings safe and sound by Taylor Swift to her fellow tribute, while their dying (like how katniss did with rue) and snow is just in awe and can’t take his eyes off the screen.

Pairing: Coriolanus x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k

Warnings: death, violence, blood, cannon-violence, hunger games level violence

~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been separated for hours. You hadn’t seen him since the ambush at the outer walls from the stringer district tributes. But you promised to him that you’d find him.

And you never broke a promise.

The quiet dread that settled over you was only interrupted by the occasional crackle of a nearby camera and the distant sounds of movement. You moved quickly through the shadows, your senses on high alert. The rustle of leaves underfoot, the chirp of insects hiding in the cracks of the ruined stone—it was all you could hear as you searched desperately for Lior.

“Lior?” you whispered, barely daring to speak above a breath.

No answer.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You moved closer to the broken stage of the amphitheater, your footfalls light but hurried. It felt like you were being watched, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on you from every direction. The Capitol’s cameras were always there, capturing your every movement. But right now, you didn’t care. You had to find him.

“Lior,” you called again, louder this time.

A soft gasp echoed through the rubble. You froze, instinctively dropping to your knees as you peeked around a pile of stone blocks.

There he was—Lior, lying crumpled in the dust, clutching his side, his face pale and twisted in pain. Blood stained his shirt, the dark red of it spreading across his abdomen, his hands weakly pressing against the wound. His eyes were wide, glazed with fear, as though he hadn’t yet realized the depth of his injury.

“No,” you whispered, a pang of panic shooting through your chest. “No, Lior…”

Your heart twisted in your chest. You reached out to him, but before you could even touch his shoulder, a shadow moved in the distance, a figure stepping from the edge of the amphitheater.

It was one of the other tributes. A tall, lanky boy from District 4, grinning as he approached, his weapon drawn. He’d been waiting for the right moment.

Lior’s eyes widened in horror, the realization of what was coming too late. You felt a hot, burning rage bubble up within you. Not just for him, but for all of them. All of the tributes who had been forced into this arena, some of them too young, too innocent, too unwilling. You had already seen too much death to just stand by and let it happen again.

The boy took a step forward, aiming his spear at Lior, and before you could think, your body was already moving.

You threw yourself forward, grabbing a shard of broken stone from the ruins. The boy was too focused on his target to notice you, his face twisted in grim satisfaction, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

In one fluid motion, you launched yourself at him, the shard of stone gripped in your hand.

“No!” you screamed, swinging the jagged edge down with all the strength you could muster. The boy barely had time to react before it struck his throat, a sickening crack filling the air.

He gurgled, trying to scream, but the blood poured from his mouth and his wound, drowning out his last breath. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.

You didn’t hesitate. Not for a second.

You rushed to Lior’s side, your hands shaking as you lifted him into your arms. He moaned weakly, his head lolling against your shoulder, too far gone to help himself. You could feel the warm blood seeping through your hands as you pressed against his wound, trying desperately to stop the flow. But it was futile.

The arena was cold, and so was the reality of what was happening.

With one last look at the boy you had just killed, you turned and ran. You didn’t know where you were going, but there was no time to think. The only thing that mattered was getting him out of the open, getting him somewhere safe, somewhere hidden.

You found a narrow gap in the stone, an old service pipe buried beneath a pile of rubble, half-hidden from view. It was dark and dank inside, but it would do. You pulled him inside, cradling him gently as you both collapsed to the dust and dirt.

The tunnel you hid in was cold and dark, but it sheltered you from the other tributes—though not from the Capitol’s ever-watchful eyes.

The cameras had found you. They always did.

You barely noticed.

All you could see was the boy in your arms, his chest rising in short, shallow gasps. His name was Lior, and you had sworn to protect him. But promises meant nothing in the Games.

His blood soaked into your hands, warm and sticky, pooling beneath him onto the metal beneath you both. A dark, growing stain on your already tattered dress. A reminder of your failure. An image that would never rid of your memories.

There was nothing left to be done. The knife wound to his stomach had sealed his fate, and now he shivered against you, his brown eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. “I want my Ma…”

Your throat tightened.

He was only thirteen. A child thrown into this nightmare, just like you. But you were older. You knew better.

But wasn’t this what would happen to you one day? On the brink of death, your fear so cold it made you shiver, reaching out for your own mother?

The thought sent a sharp ache through your chest.

“You won’t be alone. You’re not alone,” you murmured, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “I promise. I’m not leaving you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Your voice was soft, cooing gently as you smoothed his hair back, as if you could soothe him, as if you could ease the pain that had already consumed him.

Above you, a camera whirred softly, capturing every moment. Showing you, and this moment, across every screen.

Far away, in the grand halls of the Academy, Coriolanus Snow leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped beneath his chin. The screen before him flickered, illuminating his pale face in the dimly lit viewing room.

The other mentors had long since stopped watching, having already declared the boy a lost cause.

But Coriolanus… he couldn’t look away.

Not from you.

You, with your torn dress—once a lavish Capitol gown, now shredded and stained with dirt. You, with your eyes too bright, too alive, too real for the arena.

He had heard the whispers about you before the Games began.

A girl from the Capitol, sentenced to the arena as retribution for your family’s betrayal. Your existence had been a scandal, a symbol, a warning.

A name once spoken in the glittering halls of the Capitol with admiration, fond smiles, and indulgent sighs. A girl of quiet elegance, always kind, always graceful. You had never belonged to the shallow vanity of the city’s elite, but that had only made you more beloved. Desired. A rare thing—someone from the Capitol with a genuine heart.

And now, you were an example.

A lesson in loyalty.

Your parents had been exposed as traitors. Not open rebels, but sympathizers—people who whispered the wrong things to the wrong people, who sent money and medicine to District families in need. The place where your family had come from a century ago. Their secret had unraveled like a loose thread, and you had been swept into the punishment alongside them.

A Capitol girl in the Hunger Games.

A symbol of what happened to those who betrayed the system, no matter their status. A statement loud and clear.

Not even the Capitol was safe from itself.

And yet, as Coriolanus watched the screen before him, he wondered if they had made a mistake in sending you there.

You weren’t breaking the way tributes from the districts did. You weren’t sobbing, screaming, clawing for survival with bloodied hands.

You were singing.

A soft hum left your lips, barely audible at first, as if you were gathering yourself, gathering the strength. Then, gently, you began to sing.

“I remember tears streaming down your face

When I said, I’ll never let you go

When all those shadows almost killed your light.”

The room around Coriolanus faded into nothing.

Your voice was soft, trembling but sure, wrapping around the boy like a fragile shield. The song wove through the silence of the arena, carried by the hush of the dying light.

“Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You’ll be all right

No one can hurt you now.”

Coriolanus exhaled sharply.

The sound was haunting—too raw, too full of something the Games never showed. It was haunting, the way your voice wove through the silent arena, wrapping around the boy in your arms like a lullaby.

The way you held him, as though your touch alone could keep death at bay. The way your eyes shimmered, full of something raw and unguarded, even as you watched him slip away.

It was mesmerizing.

In the arena, Lior’s breathing slowed. His fingers twitched against yours, gripping weakly before going limp.

Your voice wavered.

“Come morning light…

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

Then, silence.

Coriolanus barely noticed the way the room stirred around him. The way the professors murmured, the way the other mentors whispered, already spinning the moment into strategy.

He just kept staring.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream.

You only pressed a soft kiss to Lior’s forehead, then laid him gently against the damp ground of the pipe. When you rose, there was something devastatingly beautiful in your quiet grief, in the way you carried his loss.

But Coriolanus saw it—the shift in your eyes, the way you held yourself.

This was not the same girl who had been forced into the Games, trembling and wide-eyed on the stage. This was not the Capitol girl they had expected to crumble.

No.

You had become something else entirely.

Coriolanus’s grip tightened around the armrest of his chair.

He had seen tributes die before. He had seen them beg and bleed and break. But this—this was different.

This was something dangerous.

Because the way you sang, the way you held that boy, the way you refused to let them strip you of your humanity—it would be remembered.

Even now, the audience watching across Panem would not forget. The Capitol citizens who had once known you would whisper your name with something different in their voices. The districts would see you and know that even a Capitol girl—someone raised in luxury—could still hold compassion in the face of cruelty.

The Gamemakers had wanted a symbol of punishment. A reminder that even the privileged could fall.

Instead, they had created something else.

A spark.

Something too compelling, too raw, too alive to be crushed beneath their heel so easily.

Coriolanus knew how the Game worked. He knew what they would do to you now.

The Gamemakers would see the whispers forming, the way people leaned in when you were on screen, the way the Capitol citizens watching at home softened, the way the districts might see hope in the way you carried that boy.

They would turn on you.

They would make sure your story ended before it could take root.

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deputyrook · 2 years ago

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The Assistant - Lou Bloom x Reader. Horrror/Romance

This is an old fic re-upload. I'm just going to post all four parts in one. Anyway, this is one of the few old fics I'm still quite proud of, so please enjoy (or enjoy again!)

Lou Bloom (Nightcrawler) x female reader (she/her).

WORD COUNT: 11,258

Warnings: Stalking, voyeurism, gaslighting, coercion, emotional manipulation, creepy behaviour.

“This is a very exciting opportunity. One that you’re not going to want to pass up. Now, I don’t know that you’re ready to take on this role, but I believe that when you give someone responsibility, they have the opportunity to rise to the occasion and excel. I believe that you have that ability. Which is why I am taking a chance on you, and promoting you to the role of my personal assistant.”

Lou watches your expression with the intensity of a vulture watching its next meal. He wants to see how you react to the offer. You’ve only been his intern for two and a half weeks, but he knows that one way or another, you’ll agree to the change in position.

He’ll make sure of it, because he has different plans for you now.

Your head tilts curiously, but you smile at him, close-lipped and cautious.

“It’s an honour,” you reply, and he can feel himself nodding in agreement with you.

You smell differently from Nina, but he likes it. Nina wears perfume, and sometimes a bit too much of it. Your scent is of clean skin and strawberry scented shampoo, light and natural.

Nina still sleeps with Lou, but she doesn’t comply easily. She disobeys him, and rolls her eyes when he gives her instructions in bed. She is a beautiful woman- particularly in how sharp she is, how vicious in her work- but he can’t control her, and what they have isn’t a relationship, not really, not like it should be.

You’re different. You’re careful and quiet and you take notes when he speaks to you. You listen to him, and you follow orders well and without fuss. You don’t seem to mind doing what he instructs you to, even when he tells you to drive faster, or do things other interns might find... questionable.

And you’re young, and you’re pretty.

When he realizes that he wants to have you, Lou does two things. First, he breaks up with Nina.

“Are you fucking with me?” Nina asks him, her eyes narrowing. They’re sitting at dinner, and it’s so similar a situation to when Lou first proposed a sexual relationship with her.

“The simple truth is that I have outgrown this relationship. In this world people’s needs change. I have more needs now, ones which you are not capable of meeting. As such, I am terminating our relationship immediately.” Lou takes a sip of his water.

Nina’s lips purse, as though she thinks it’s a trick. Lou can imagine the way the gears are turning in her mind.

“But you’ll continue to work with me on a professional basis... right?” She confirms apprehensively. “You’re our leading stringer, your work is-”

“Artistry. I’m aware,” She looks unsure, and Lou likes that. It will be a shame, not having her around when he wants her anymore, but he doubts he’ll ultimately miss it much. “As long as you continue to pay me at the rate you currently are. I know that KWLA 6 is now the most popular news network on morning television and I also know that the name of my business is starting to become known. Now, I’ll keep supplying you with the footage, but you should understand that I have no loyalty to your company, or to you personally.”

Nina’s expression settles into a frown. “You’re breaking off our- so that you don’t feel any guilt about just selling to the highest bidder?”

Sometimes, Lou thinks that maybe Nina comes close to understanding him. This is not one of those times.

“No,” He answers, with a chuckle to himself, “But I don’t need to sleep with you anymore, and I won’t have our arrangement limiting my or my company’s potential for growth.”

The second thing Lou does is install cameras in your apartment when he knows that you’re not home.

He has your address from the paperwork he made you and the other two interns fill out when you first started working for him, but he’s never been to your apartment before. A quick message sent to you asking you to pick up his dry cleaning, conveniently across the city from your place, and he has you out of the way.

Lou breaks into your home with ease. The main door to the building is unlocked, and with a twist of his lockpick and a satisfying click, so is the door to your apartment. Bag slung over his shoulder, he slips into the place, careful to shut the door quietly behind him. Turning on the light, he looks around the room with an intrusive interest.

The place is small, just as small as his old place had been, before he’d moved. It’s neatly decorated, and it smells like you, and Lou digs his nails into the palm of his hand as he scans the main room. You have a bookshelf- he quickly notes your favourite author- and several small plants, but the apartment is scarcely decorated and plain. No photos of a boyfriend, he notes. Good, that would just be another obstacle to remove. It’s tempting to leave you a message using your fridge magnets, but Lou resists the urge and continues in.

A cat trods out from the bedroom, meowing at Lou. For a moment he freezes, staring at the animal, standing still as it brushes happily against his shin with a purr. He hesitates. Reaching down, Lou slowly brushes his fingers against the cat’s head, before withdrawing his hand and stepping delicately around the pet.

As much as he’d like to stay and search through your belongings, he has a job to do.

He’s leaving the apartment when he gets a text from you letting him know that you’ve picked up his clothes, and want to know where to drop them off. Checking his watch, Lou sends you a reply with his address before he gets into his car and drives home.

Lou is creating a file in his mind and filling it with notes about you. She has a cat. She likes to read. She has quite a few DVDs, with many of them being horror movies. It all factors into the way he’ll achieve his goal of luring you in, and Lou intends to do it the right way.

---

“Hi there,” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s past nine PM now, and even though it’s certainly after hours, Lou knew you wouldn’t complain. And here you are, standing on his doorstep, holding his dry cleaning in hand. You’re even wearing a bit of makeup, he notices.

You must be as lonely as he is.

“Hello,” He replies, “I’m glad you’re taking this aspect of being my personal assistant in stride. In order to get ahead as a new employee, it’s important to go above and beyond the duties of the position.”

You nod, shifting from one foot to the other. Lou smiles.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks, and you hesitate. Lou waits, staring, until you acquiesce with another nod.

“Okay, maybe just for a few minutes. Then I should really get home.”

He takes the dry cleaning from you and leads you inside of his apartment, a nice one-bedroom he’d recently moved into where he has a larger television and marble countertops and more space for him to review footage. Besides the computer desk, and the place where his camcorder is hooked up, the apartment is filled with empty space.

Not much makes Lou’s heart quicken, but his mouth goes dry at the sight of you, alone in his apartment. He controls this space, possesses it, and here you are, a part of it- just as it should be. Lou feels a pleasant stir in his stomach at the way you glance around the room with your eyes wide.

He considers, for a moment, pushing you against the wall and pinning you there, to see how you’d react. He wonders idly if you’d scream, before he turns and hangs up the dry cleaning in the closet.

“Wow, this place is- it’s so like you,” You say, looking back to him. “It’s nice. No pets?”

“No,” He answers plainly, staring at you, “Not yet.”

It’s easy to imagine how you’ll slot into his life. He’s already picturing where in his apartment he’ll put your bookshelf.

“We should spend more time together,” He says to you, standing in his living room and facing you. “Outside of work. I’d like to see you here more often.”

“Oh,” you reply. Your eyes glance at him, and then the door, darting nervously. “You would?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Lou answers, taking a step closer to you. “I have wine. Red and white, for if I have company over. But you prefer red, don’t you? I can get you a glass.”

You shake your head then, making for the door. “Um, I... really should really be going. It’s getting late, and I drove here, so I can’t be drinking anyway.”

Lou pauses, looking at you for a very long moment. Then, he nods his head one, a knowing smile breaking across his face.

“Of course. Smart. It’s dangerous out there, you know. You’re a pretty young woman. And there are a lot of terrible men out there who might take advantage of that. You should get home.” He never takes his eyes off of you, not as he watches you smile softly, wave goodbye awkwardly, and scamper back out of the door.

The second you leave, Lou goes to his computer.

It takes about twenty minutes before the camera feed shows you enter your apartment. He set up two cameras, one in your living room, and one in your bedroom. He doesn’t need to spy on you in the bathroom or shower- that’s not the point of this invasion.

You throw your coat on the hanger and your purse on the counter, and you pick up your cat and spin him around in your arms- it’s adorable. Lou watches, rapt in attention as you set the cat down and roll your shoulders. He can see you sigh, even though the feed is silent, and you look tired.

He watches as you strip off your clothes, performing for no one as you root around for clean pajamas. Lou didn’t set up the cameras for sexual gratification- he wants to know exactly what you like, and see who you are when you think you’re alone- but it’s hard to deny that he feels pleasure knowing that he’s with you even when you don’t know it.

It’s hard to deny that there’s a thrill to the knowledge that he’s going to take everything that’s yours and make it his. Just like everything else, all it will take is some planning, a meticulous execution, and the will to make it happen.

And it would.

---

The first gift that Lou buys for you is a new coffee maker.

The one you have, he’s noticed, is horribly outdated and slow to brew. Through the cameras he’s watched you look longingly at new models on Amazon, always browsing, never purchasing. You’ve saved at least five to your wishlist, but you always exit out of the pages without placing an order. After studying the footage, Lou comes to the conclusion that you can’t decide which one to buy.

So he decides for you. Lou purchases an expensive model, a coffee maker even better than the ones you’ve been dreaming of, and has it express delivered to your door.

Lou is so glad when you don’t open the package outside, but instead carry it into your living room with a confused look on your face. Your mouth is twisted into a near pout, and your brow furrows as you turn over the box. When you grab a knife and open it up, Lou can’t help but smile at the shock that registers on your face at its contents.

You pull apart the box like it’s Christmas, gingerly taking out the new coffee maker and setting it on the counter. You stare at it for a long moment, incredulous, before noticing the note, just a thin slip of paper at the bottom of the box.

He can’t read it from the camera feed streaming from your apartment, but Lou knows what it says.

“Make the choices you want, and pursue them. LB.”

With Nina, everything he needed to know about her he could find online. With you, he needs to improvise, and pay attention. He’d googled you, of course, with few results besides an Instagram and Linkedin page. It’s only been a few days since he installed the cameras, but he’s already felt like he’s learned so much.

Things... hadn’t gone how he’d wanted with Nina. He’d wanted a relationship, someone to share a life with. He’d gotten little more than friends with benefits, and a reluctant one at that. Maybe this time, he would just have to be clearer with what he wanted from you, and be a little bit more patient.

You hold the paper up to your mouth, hiding, and he finds it difficult to read your expression. But maybe it’s just what he wants to see, but he thinks that you look pleased.

---

“Lou... I don’t know what to say about the coffee maker,” You tell him later that night. The two of you are sitting in the front of his car, parked on the side of the street. It’s been a slow night, and the police scanner crackles in the background, every so often announcing a DUI or petty theft. His other employee, Mikhael, sits in the back of the car on his laptop, editing footage, his headphones over his ears.

You’re sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning against the wheel.

“Say thank you,” He replies, smiling at you. You bite your lip, and grin at him. You’ve been using his name a lot more casually since you’ve been promoted, and Lou likes that.

“Fine. Thank you,” you answer. You seem to mull over your next words, the smile dropping from your face in contemplation before you speak. You seem apprehensive to broach the subject, but you continue. “But... how did you know I needed a new coffee maker?”

“You told me. Don’t you remember?” Lou says, feigning confusion and leaning in closer to you. “You told me that you couldn’t decide which one to get.”

Lou can almost see your thought process. He loves the way you consider his words, quietly to yourself, and he can tell that he’s convincing you, even when you know deep down that you never said a thing about it. You’re a clever girl, but so easily swayed.

“I... don’t remember,” You admit to him, so honest. “I was so surprised. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. But I like you.” This is romantic, Lou thinks to himself, like a scene from a film. “And now, whenever you make coffee in the morning, you’ll think of me.” He smiles in a way he thinks is pleasant, and he sees you look him over, half-unsure, half-appreciative.

“You know,” he continues, “I learned recently that people don’t really become addicted to caffeine. They develop a dependence on it, which isn’t the same thing. Caffeine is only actually slightly addictive as an actual substance. The symptoms of withdrawal are physically very mild, and drinking a lot of coffee rarely results in self-destructive behaviour. Instead, you become used to the presence of caffeine in your life. You come to take it by habit, and because you enjoy the positive benefits, including increased alertness and wakefulness. It’s the mental dependence on caffeine, the reliance on it being there to pick you up that creates the believe that caffeine is addictive.”

You listen to him, nodding along with his words. He finishes, “The dependence is far more psychological than physical. But it’s interesting. How people develop dependence on things like coffee. How they feel like they need it to even function, day-to-day. How they feel like they can’t live without it.”

You should be leaning in to share his space right about now. Or telling him how you will think of him, every morning when you make coffee. When you bring the mug to your lips and close your eyes, breathing in the smell of it, when you take that first drink and yawn. You should be flushing at the thought of it, but instead, you’re looking at your hands, fidgeting.

“Yeah. That is interesting, I didn’t know that,” You comment, and the silence that follows is thick and awkward, the only sound in the car the dull chatter on the police scanner. In the back, Mikhael clears his throat, and when Lou turns back to address him, his eyes dart from you to Lou.

“What is it?” Lou asks sharply. Mikhael points to the police scanner, one headphone on.

“2-6-7, suspect is a white male, approximately 6’2”, may be armed,” The voice on the scanner says. “10-524. Proceed with caution.”

Lou nods to you, and he doesn’t have to say a word. You turn the key in the ignition and his car roars to life. With a shift of the gear and your foot on the gas, you tear off down the street, speeding toward the destination. Lou readies his camera while he calls your coworker, his third and final employee, to come with the production van and meet you at the scene with all of his equipment.

You drive steady, careful as you pull out onto the highway. Lou checks his watch.

“We need to go faster. I doubt we’ll arrive before the police but if there’s a chance, we want to take it. At the very least, I want to see a body tonight.”

You comply, pressing the pedal down and accelerating. Your focus on the task, and your complete willingness to trust him and follow him into a dangerous situation is nearly distracting for him.

“Faster,” he tells you, even though you’re already going 10 miles over the speed limit. Part of him wants to make it to the location before the police arrive, or certainly earlier than any other news crew. But part of him wants to push you to drive faster, drive more dangerously, just to see if you will.

You barely spare him a glance as you accelerate even faster, switching lanes back and forth to pass cars in your way. In the back seat of the car, Mikhael curses under his breath as you fly past a car that honks loudly.

“We’re going to fast, we’re going to get pulled over-” He says anxiously.

“Not if all the cops are busy going to the same place we are. Left, make the next left,” Lou tells you, and you barely have time to put on your blinker before you’re sliding around the corner. From the back, Mikhael groans. Lou’s camera is ready with blank tape, and he passes the microphone to Mikhael in the back for him to carry out. It’s only another three miles before you reach your destination.

“Are we ready?” Lou asks the two of you. Mikhael nods, and you smile.

When you pull into the street where the home in question is located- a beautiful suburban house in the outskirts of the city- it’s before a cop car has arrived. As you throw the gear into park, you turn to him, beaming, breathless and proud, and he can tell you’re looking to hear you did well.

But now isn’t the time. Lou is already throwing open the door of the car and rushing to the scene, Mikhael close behind him. You stay behind, to run interference on the cops, who are just rounding the corner of the street.

He hopes you’ll be able to distract the cop for long enough that he can sneak around the back of the house.

---

“We did well tonight,” Lou says, looking to each of his three employees in turn. The four of you are together in the small office space he rents, each with a drink in hand. It’s been less than two hours since you arrived at the scene of the assault, and only half an hour since he left victorious, footage of a screaming argument and a bloody stab wound saved safely on the memory card.

Sitting in a circle of cheap folding chairs, he feels pride in himself, in this company of professionals he’s built. You’re quickly rising to be the video company with the most-used footage in all of central LA, and it won’t be long before the names Video Production News and Louis Bloom become famous in the wider news industry. “The footage we got is going to garner us a top spot tomorrow on a prime news network.”

“Which one?” Eve, his equipment manager, asks with an enthused look on her face.

“Whichever one pays the highest,” Lou answers. He points to you. “The two of us will stay late to edit the footage, and submit proposals to the top five news networks with the highest viewer counts. It’s time we started branching out from KWLA-6 and considering other options.”

You nod to him, and he feels the satisfaction of a job well done wash over him.

“I appreciate the dedication each one of you has to Video Production News. With your continued dedication and willingness to follow my business plan, we will continue to achieve success in the Los Angeles news industry.”

He always hopes that everyone will stay longer than they do, when the team goes out for drinks. It would help everyone grow closer if they were to spend time together outside of work, but first Mikhael excuses himself, and then Eve follows, both citing pets they need to feed and partners they need to return to. This time, though, you can’t excuse yourself to go home to your cat- you’ve already agreed to stay late and help him.

And when Eve and Mikhael leave, the two of you are alone again, and that suits him fine.

“You look pretty tonight,” He tells you, even though your hair is messy and you’re sweating from the lack of air conditioning in the office. “But you shouldn’t wear bright colours any more. I prefer you in dark ones. They suit you more, and compliment you better.” Lou smiles to you, like he’s shared highly valuable information with you and you should be thankful.

“Oh,” You reply, clearly surprised. You look down at your dress, and when you look back up, he notices that you look a little self conscious.

“Can you try to do that for me?” He asks. You hesitate, and then nod.

“I-I guess I can, yeah,” You say, cheeks colouring. And there’s that blush he’s been hoping to see. Lou remembers, suddenly, the way you’d looked at him on arrival at the scene of the crime, eager for praise.

“You did well tonight. I like that you drive faster when I tell you to,” Lou stares hungrily at the way your cheeks flush deeper. He can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or ashamed or aroused. “That you follow my instructions is one of the reasons I promoted you to my assistant.” He looks at your glass, nearly empty now, and refills it with wine. You take a nervous gulp.

“I used to sleep with the morning news director at KWLA-6,” Lou says, deadpan, and you choke on your drink.

“You did?” You ask, apparently too curious or stunned to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Were you- did she, um-”

“She came often,” Lou lies. “I was led to believe it was very pleasurable for us both. She was very attracted to me.”

“That wasn’t going to be my question, Lou,” you reply, a light laugh in your tone, “I was going to ask if she ended things, or if you did.”

“Oh. I did,” He answers seriously, “I took some time to evaluate my wants and needs, as well as what would be best for my company. I know it was difficult for her, but it was necessary to do.”

The air between the two of you is tense, heavy with a weight between you and you study him with interest as you ask, “Was it hard for you?”

Lou is thrown for a moment.

“I admired her, and I was looking for certain things when we started seeing each other.” Lou thinks about how honest he wants to be with you. He always finds it difficult to voice aloud his desire for company, or to address his loneliness. “What I’m looking for is someone who can be a partner to me, but also someone who listens to what I tell them. I want a relationship with someone that suits my needs. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” You answer, looking at your glass. You swirl the wine around in it. “I know what it’s like. To really want a relationship to be one thing, and have it end up as another.”

“It wasn’t hard for me. That’s the answer to your question. I want something else now,” He looks at you pointedly, just shy of telling you that he wants you. But he doesn’t have enough information about you yet- doesn’t feel as though he’s in an advantageous enough position to get what he wants.

Lou wants your back to be up against the wall before he makes his intentions abundantly clear. Figuratively, and perhaps literally. It’s difficult for him to avoid being direct with his desires, but being honest wouldn’t be the path to victory, not at this point.

No, he has to court you. Teach you to need him, too. Maybe this could even be considered your first date.

You’re blushing again, and you look down and away from him, clearing your throat. You set aside your glass of wine, and point to the computer. “We should, ah. We should work on editing. We have a lot to get done tonight if we want to make the morning news.”

Lou checks his watch. It’s a quarter past twelve in the morning.

“You’re right,” He says, and the two of you get to work.

---

The story hits with as much of a splash as Lou expected, and not on KWLA. Channel 11 News breaks the story, airing his footage and mentioning the name Video Production News before they do, and they pay 30% more than KWLA had offered.

Sitting in his apartment and feeling content, Lou watches your camera feed as he irons his clothes. You’re doing your hair and putting on your makeup in the bathroom, and you choose another light coloured dress to wear- though to be fair to you, you didn’t exactly know that he was watching.

He’s thinking about the effort you put into your appearance when he sees you step up to answer your front door. You look so put together and beautiful today. As though you’re preparing for a date with him, though you would wear black for that, not white. Lou can just imagine how easily he would pull the dress off of you, mess up that perfectly assembled look of yours, the way he’s grab a fistful of your hair and -

Wait. Wait. Who is that stepping in through the door?

A man, tall and fairly handsome, steps into your apartment, and he kisses you. Lou’s blood turns cold at the sight, and he stares, iron hot in his hand.

This is a problem.

---

So, here’s the thing.

The guy you’re seeing? He’s no good for you, Lou knows.

He’s sitting on a park bench with his sunglasses on, watching the people pass by with a detached interest. Lou sips his soda with a straw, keeping an eye out for you and the man you’ll be passing by him with. The afternoon sun is beating down, but the bench he sits on it partially shaded by a tree, and he’s glad for it since he hasn’t moved in about forty-five minutes.

It’s given him time to think, and to plan out his next move.

When he’d seen the man on the surveillance footage kissing you, Lou slowly set down his iron and unplugged it. He set aside his laundry, and pulled his hair up into a neat bun. Grabbing his laptop, one of his books and his keys, Lou left his apartment without another moment of hesitation or thought.

Lou drove to your neighbourhood, parking two blocks away and walking the rest of the distance to your apartment building. In the back parking lot, there were two cars parked in the visitor’s spots. Taking quick photos of the two license plates, Lou walked to a nearby coffee shop, and, making sure you and the stranger were not also there, set up his laptop to run the plates.

It didn’t take long before Lou was able to find out the name of your mysterious visitor. His name is Andrew Price, and he lives in a city about an hour and a half’s drive away from Los Angeles, which explains why Lou has never seen him before. His employment was listed as a freelance journalist, and scouring the internet for more information, Lou found a profile on a networking website where he listed his relationship status as single.

Not a boyfriend, then. Or he’s a cheater. Both give Lou a bit of hope.

When Lou checked the man’s instagram, he noticed Price had just posted a scenic photo several minutes prior, one that Lou could identify as being from a nearby park. There are no pictures of you on Price’s instagram either, he noticed.

Packing up his laptop, Lou went to sit by the entrance of the park. Now he’s waiting on the bench, a book that he isn’t reading in his hands, as he watches for you and this man to pass him.

A freelance journalist ? And not even a very successful one it looks like, at that. Why would you kiss a man like that? Someone who doesn’t even appreciate you enough to show you off as his to the world, who doesn’t even consider himself to be in a relationship with you?

Surely, that’s not what you really want. Surely, this man isn’t fulfilling your needs. Lou settles on believing that your loneliness has driven you to this stranger, and that it’s only because no better options had presented themselves.

But still, Lou doesn’t want to take any chances. He knows that the execution of a meticulous plan is the best path to success, and you’re too important for him to try a simple, straightforward approach. So much could go wrong, so easily.

He needs the upper hand, and he’s slowly starting to figure out how to get it.

In the news industry, framing is everything. It’s easy to make the audience believe whatever story that the network wants to push, or rework an angle to a narrative that sells better. It’s a manipulation, yes, and in some ways, a lie- but it’s a skill, and one Lou has been working on developing. It’s what the audience sees and the way that they see it that informs their views. And those views colour the way every story following is received.

And it’ll be the same with you.

Lou is in such deep thought about how he’s going to get you into this arms that he doesn’t even notice you until you call out to him.

“Lou? Is that you?” His head shoots up, and he stares, roused from his thoughts and nearly startled, despite the fact that he had been waiting for you. You look at him quizzically, with Price standing at your side, confused.

“Oh. What a surprise,” Lou smiles, and feigns surprise. His smile is nearly real when he thinks about how you called out to him. Chuckling lightly, he continues, “Looks like even on our days off we just can’t stay away from each other.”

Price’s eyebrows crinkle at Lou’s words, and you beckon him to follow as you approach. You seem genuinely happy to see him, and the sight of it knocks the wind out of Lou.

“Andrew, this is my boss, Louis Bloom. Lou, this is my, ah, friend, Andrew Price. He’s a journalist. You guys might have a lot to talk about.” You laugh gently, and Price sticks out a hand, stepping forward to shake. Lou looks at the outstretched hand, making no move to take it. After a moment of tension, Price retracts his hand, wiping it on his jeans.

“Must be a germ freak, huh?” He says, trying to keep the tone light. Price tilts his head to you. “She’s mentioned you. Says you’re a genius. I’d love to pick your brain some time, if you want to chat.”

A genius, Lou thinks, and he can feel his shoulders straighten at the praise.

“That would be interesting,” Lou deadpans, “Are you two on a date?”

Andrew laughs, and Lou catches a flash of something flicker across your face. Upset? Anger? Bitterness? Lou can’t quite place it, but it feels strangely familiar to him, like a reflection of the same darkness which lives inside of him, and it leaves him thrown. He wants to see more of it, whatever was.

But just as soon as he catches a glimpse of it, it’s gone, and you roll your eyes.

“Us? Date? We’d be terrible,” Price says, and you nod with his words, smiling half-heartedly.

“We should get going. Andrew’s only in town for a few more days,” You say. Something in you looks sad, and Lou is rocked by a violent, feral impulse to tear this man apart. He seems none the wiser.

Lou blinks, and forces away the impulse to smile.

“I’ll see you, then,” he says, and you smile to him as you wave goodbye.

That night, you and Price have sex in the living room. On the couch, not in your bed, and Lou hates how this man pleasures you in a way that is clearly satisfying for you. But he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, transfixed as you shed your clothes and help undress him. He watches, trying to memorize the way you react to what Price does, what seems to get the best reaction, so that when it’s him touching you, he can impress you with how good he’s able to make you feel.

He watches, chin in his hand, and then-

And then, you seem to look up, right at the camera as you come undone.

Lou follows soon after.

And afterward, he watches as you get up and go to the kitchen by yourself to make coffee, decaf. You stare at the coffee maker, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and then close your eyes, and Lou knows that you must be thinking of him.

---

Price is, as you had said, only in town for a few more days, so Lou’s window of opportunity is only open a hair’s width. With that said, he’s always felt like his best work has been done under pressure, and by Monday evening, he’s gotten everything in place.

First, he calls Price, using the phone number so helpfully supplied on his networking profile.

“Hello. This is Louis Bloom, we met the other day. We have a mutual friend,” Lou says when Price picks up the phone.

“Who?” Price asks, and then he says your name. “You’re her boss, right? Why are you calling me?”

“It’s important for you to come to my office right now. I need to talk to you about her,” Lou says. “Do you know the address? I found something out, and it concerns you. I want to speak to you about it in person.”

There’s a long pause, and Lou thinks for a moment that Price may not take the bait. But then, his curiosity- whatever it is in him that drove him to be a journalist- wins out.

“Yeah, alright. Can you give me the address? I’ll head over now.” Looking at the clock, Lou sees that it’s a quarter past six in the afternoon. Perfect.

And then, one text, Lou sends to you.

[Please pick up some new film for me and meet me at my office at 7pm. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Wear your navy blue dress - LB]

---

“Alright. You’ve got my attention. What is it that’s so important?”

Andrew Price walks into the small office space, shoulders straight and confident. He’s a fairly clean cut, attractive man, but he doesn’t love you, and Lou knows it. Hands shoved in his pockets, and a frown on his face, Price strides across the room to stand in front of Lou.

Lou sits at his desk, his cell phone in his hand.

“I know you’re sleeping with her,” Lou says calmly, “You don’t have to pretend you aren’t, I know that you are.”

Price scoffs, and looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“And what if I am? You’re not her boyfriend, man. Just because you have a creepy little crush and you’re her boss doesn’t mean you get to control her. She can sleep with whoever the fuck she wants.” Scowling, Price shakes his head. “I knew it. She defended you, but I knew you were into her.”

“You’re right. I am,” Lou answers easily. Then he smiles. “And you mean that I’m not her boyfriend yet.”

Price leans across the desk, pushing himself into Lou’s personal space. He looks equally parts disgusted and unnerved, and Lou holds his thumb just over the call button on his phone, waiting for the perfect moment. He glances at the clock.

“I thought I was going to get some information coming here, but you know what? I think I’m going to leave here with some information to give.” Price leans away. “Is that all?”

“No,” Lou answers, and he hits call.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end asks as Price stares in bewilderment.

“There’s a man, he’s broken into my office- I- I think he wants to hurt me- this is Lou Bloom calling from 113 Main Street West, I’m very afraid for my safety-” Lou makes the panic in his voice real, waits for a second, and then starts to scream, deep and guttural from his chest. He shoves some heavy filming equipment off of his desk and then ends the call with a tap of his finger.

A moment of silence stretches between the two men. Quietly, Lou gathers his will.

“What the fuck-” Price starts, but he’s cut off as Lou slams his own face into his desk.

His nose gives a sickening crunch, and blood splatters out from it across the desk. Lou gasps at the sharp pain blooming across his face, fairly certain he’s successfully broken his own nose- and he knows what a broken nose feels like. Price watches in horror, taking a step back as Lou slams his face back into the desk a second time, this time knocking his tooth through his upper lip.

Blood is gushing from his nose, more than Lou expected, and it’s staining down the front of his shirt as he straightens. Quickly and definitively, Lou grips the collar of his shirt and rips it open. He takes two steps toward Price, who backs away from him.

“You’re fucking insane,” Price says, holding his hand up as if to tell Lou to stop coming closer. As if it would stop him. Grabbing his wrist and yanking the man forward, Lou smears some of his own blood from under his nose across Price’s knuckles.

It’s almost too easy. Lou looks at Price, standing and watching in shock, and then at the clock. He takes two measured steps backward, kicks the desk chair over, and slumps down against one of his cabinets.

He sits there for nearly two minutes, panting and waiting for the blood to stop flowing. Price seems to not know if he should leave or stay, and stares wide-eyed at Lou, and then at his hand, and then around the room.

He’s realizing just now, Lou thinks, what this will look like when the cops show up. But more importantly, how it will look when-

You enter through the door, wearing a navy blue dress, your bag slung over your shoulder. You freeze, and take in the scene, looking from Lou to Price. Your eyes are wide, horrified, and it seems that you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

“Oh, god,” Lou moans, “You need to leave, please, he went crazy-”

At the same time, Andrew starts to talk, his hands held out in front of himself again as he equivocates and tries to explain and excuse what you’re seeing.

“This isn’t what it looks like- this guy, he’s insane, he- I didn’t-” Price’s voice breaks, and he’s at a complete loss for what to say or do as you drop your bag and rush to Lou’s side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god? Lou? Lou, fuck, you’re bleeding,” You say, real panic in your voice as you kneel beside him and gently touch his face. Lou meets your gaze, and you’re close, you’re so close to him, and you smell so wonderful, and you wore the blue dress.

“Get out of here,” He says quickly to you, looking you in the eye. “And wait for the police to arrive. You need to be safe.”

Andrew Price sputters from the corner, and laughs a manic, shocked peel of laughter.

“You can’t honestly believe him, can you?” He asks, gesturing to Lou.

But you don’t get a chance to answer, because that’s when the police burst through the doorway, yelling, guns drawn.

A news story is all about framing. How a story looks to its audience is the most important thing in how they will receive it. And once that first image, that initial impression has formed in the audience’s mind, it can be incredibly difficult to change.

There are no security cameras running in Lou’s office, or at least not any that were running that night. When the police see the blood smeared across Price’s knuckles, it doesn’t matter that they aren’t swollen or bruised from hitting him. They arrest him on the spot, and you never leave his side throughout the entire process, not once.

Lou never thought he himself would become a story featured on the morning news, but he’s an adaptable man. Sitting upright in his hospital bed the next morning, his nose bandaged, his lip swollen, and one of his eye blackened, Lou watches the story play on the morning news.

Terrible camera work. Amateurs must have shot this, he thinks, as a shaky camera pans across his office, zooming in on his blood on the floor. There’s a shot of you at his side, escorting him to the back of the ambulance. He looks a mess: his hair is in his face, and his cheek already beginning to swell. But you’ve got your hand on his arm, and you look so concerned and scared for him that it makes his heart swell.

“Whoever filmed us didn’t do a very good job, did they?” You whisper, quietly latching the door behind you. In the second bed in the room, an elderly woman sleeps, and Lou notes your consideration as you lightly walk across the room to his bedside.

“No. If we had been filming, we would have gotten a much better shot of the office. If you film it through the window, you’d get a clear view of the camera and the blood on the ground,” Lou answers, annoyed. I couldn’t have set it up any better, he thinks, wincing as pain shoots through his face when he speaks.

Sitting beside him, Lou can see that you’ve changed clothes since last night, into a dark shirt and a pair of jeans- his blood must be all over the dress, Lou realizes. You lean in close to him, clearly still worried. For the first time in weeks, Lou wasn’t able to watch you go to bed. He wonders if you slept poorly.

“You okay?” You murmur, a hand touching his shoulder lightly. You look solemn and disturbed as you continue, “I can’t believe... I never would have thought Andrew would do something like that.”

Lou reaches up to brush the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear the way that you do when you’re nervous. “I was shocked too. He flew into a rage, talking about how he knew that I had feelings for you and saying that he wouldn’t let me near you.” Lou tells you this calmly, voice even and monotone as he recites the story he’s rehearsed in his head. “He knew that I wanted to be with you, and he attacked me. He broke my nose, and as you can see, did a good deal of damage otherwise.” Lou smiles to you, watching your eyes flick over your face.

“Do you?” You ask quietly, searching his expression.

“Do I what?”

“Want to be with me?” You reach out and take his hand softly in yours, and Lou feels triumph burning in his chest. He won’t even have to make the first move. It’s perfect.

“Yes,” he answers readily, “I like many things about you. The way that you listen to me, the way you wear your hair, the way that you smell. I like how attentive you are. I like that you always sit close to me,” Lou takes a breath, and notes the strange, almost alien feeling of nerves. “I’ve thought about kissing you a lot.”

“Just kissing?” You reply cheekily. You’re leaning in even closer, squeezing his hand.

“No,” Lou breathes, “Much more than kissing.”

“But we can start there,” You finish, before you close the distance between the two of you and kiss him.

You kiss so softly, so hesitatingly, and at first Lou matches your pace. He loves how unsure you seem to be, the way your lips press so lightly and chastely against his. He reciprocates, gently initially, but his patience quickly wanes and he deepens the kiss. Lou moves his lips more insistently against yours, kissing with more fervor.

Reaching up, he cups your face in both of his hands to hold you in place, and he continues to kiss you hungrily. You gasp for air between the kisses, and he nearly feels dizzy from his own lack of oxygen as he continues to press small, quick kisses against your lips, ignoring the ache spreading across his face. Every time you go to pull away, he kisses you again, not wanting to let you leave his grasp.

He wants to keep kissing you. He thinks that he wants to keep kissing you forever.

---

When you finally walk out of the hospital room, your heart hammering. Your face is flushed, and you make it halfway down the hallway before a grin spreads slowly across your face.

That wonderful, magnificent bastard, You think to yourself. That terrible genius. Look at what he’s done to get me.

You hadn’t even had to break things off with Andrew yourself.

Lou finally had you, but then again, you'd had him in your sights for a while.

Game, set, match.

---

You know about the cameras.

Of course you know about the cameras.

You’d noticed one shortly after Lou had sent the coffee maker to your house, small and hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. You’d suspected that he had feelings for you as soon as you were promoted, but the gift had been what cemented his intentions in your mind, and had first triggered your suspicion that he was watching you.

Searching through your apartment without making it look like you were looking for the cameras had been a bit tricky. You pretended to be cleaning, not wanting Lou to catch on that you suspected him. For a while, before you found the proof you were looking for, you had thought you were just becoming paranoid. Finally catching sight of the small black box with the pinhole-sized lenses had been equal parts a shock and a relief.

Lou is many things. He is vicious, he is ruthless, he is intent and will and a shameless drive toward achievement. But he is not exactly subtle.

You drum your fingers along the smooth wooden surface of Lou’s desk in the Video Production News office, and take a sip of your coffee. While Lou took several days off following his discharge from the hospital (a rarity for him) you had volunteered to put the office back in order. You’d successfully cleaned and rearranged the space, and now you were busy picking up the slack editing footage packages for the networks.

This leaves you in the office with Mikhael, who sits across the room skimming through police reports on his laptop. Although your eyes are on your computer screen, your mind is elsewhere, mulling over Lou and what had happened between him and Andrew.

You weren’t sure exactly sure what had gone down, but you doubted Andrew had attacked Lou out of jealousy over you. The taste of bitterness wells in your mouth, as thick and bitter as bile as you remember how long you pined after Andrew, and how badly you’d wanted him to be more than a friend with benefits. He’d never been interested in you romantically, so the thought of him flying into a rage over you seemed unlikely.

Not that you’d told the police that.

After all, Lou’s ruthlessness and willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed is part of what draws you to him, and what attracted you to him in the first place. You’ve never seen such ceaseless ambition and motivation in someone before, and certainly not directed toward you.

Maybe you should have been horrified instead of flattered when you noticed a small camera in your apartment, eye-level and stuck to the bottom of a shelf. Maybe you should be irate instead of thrilled when Lou tells you what to wear, or plainly tells you what he likes about you and what he wants you to change.

But you aren’t.

Lou is a predator, closing in on you with hunger in his eyes. But you’re no prey, and you’re just fine with getting backed up into a corner. You’re being maneuvered, but you’re right where you want to be.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

[Let’s go for dinner tonight. -LB]

You smile down at your phone, and wait a moment before you type out your reply.

[I’d like that. Is it a date?]

You wonder if you should tell him you know what happened with Andrew, or ask him how his injuries are. He answers your text almost immediately.

[Yes. -LB]

---

“Halibut are nocturnal animals. Did you know that? I was watching a documentary on nocturnal creatures earlier today. Animals that are nocturnal, rather than diurnal like most mammals, have a number of specific adaptations which allow them to better track and hunt and survive through the night, such as silent flight, heightened senses, and echolocation. Their circadian rhythms are also slightly shorter than diurnal animals.”

You take another bite of your fish, and nod to signify that you’re listening to Lou.

He smiles, and looks proud of himself, seemingly excited to share the information he’s learned. You really don’t care about the circadian rhythms of nocturnal animals, but he’s actually pretty cute like this- at least you think so, though you imagine other people might find his monotone, quickly-spoken monologues off-putting.

The restaurant you’re in in small but private, and the two of you sit in a booth toward the back of the room that provides ample seclusion from the other customers. Lou has a meal in front of him that he’s barely touched, instead choosing to focus his attention almost singularly on you. It makes you feel like you’re an ant under a magnifying glass. His stare burns you, in more ways than one.

His nose, though no longer bandaged, is still heavily bruised and broken, and his left eye shines black and purple. Even as battered as he is, Lou has clearly put effort into his appearance tonight. His hair is slicked back, and he wears a nicely pressed dress shirt and blazer. Across from him, you wear a dark red dress.

“We’re out a lot after dark. Do you sleep through most of the day after a night of work?” You ask him in between bites of your dinner.

“No. I sleep very little,” he replies, before he pauses, and then continues. “You strike me as the kind of person who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. And then, the kind who sleeps very deeply. Am I right?”

You feign surprise, and your stomach flips pleasantly as you imagine him watching you in bed. “Yes. You’re exactly right, Lou. How’d you know?”

Lou surveys you seriously. You can never predict what he’s going to say next, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s about to admit to you that he broke into your apartment. Instead, he leans in close, and speaks in a low voice, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I know this because I pay attention to you. I’ve told you that there are a number of things that I like about you, and I know you don’t need me to repeat myself. I think you and I are a good fit, both professionally and personally. You’re my employee, so we keep the same work schedules. You spend a lot of time with me already. We both live alone currently, and our lifestyles suit each other. Neither of us go out partying much, or drink excessively, and we both like to read. Think about it. I can provide enough income to support both of us, and if we live together, we can save money by commuting together. Also, I enjoy your company, and am very sexually attracted to you. The fact that you kissed me the other day implies you feel the same way. Am I wrong?”

You take a moment to digest Lou’s words, cheeks colouring at his boldness. “No, you’re not.” You pause. “You’ve really thought all this out? That you want a relationship with me?”

“Of course,” Lou answers. “It’s clear you would compliment me very well.”

“Half a week ago you were attacked by my ex... er, ex-friend because he wanted to keep you away from me. Now you want to be my boyfriend. You move pretty fast,” You reply glibly, with a smile.

Lou doesn’t smile back. “Why shouldn’t I? We both know what we want. Do you have any questions, or do you agree?”

You think for a moment. Lou is pressing forward without quarter, leaving so little room for argument. He leans forward, head slightly tilted, gaze vicious.

“A couple,” you say, “Are you allergic to cats?”

Lou leans back, shakes his head, and smiles. “No. And I like that you’re thinking ahead. Foresight is important in any relationship.”

You swirl your wine around your glass, and avoid Lou’s relentless eye contact. “About that. How serious are you about this?”

Lou looks confused. “How serious? I wouldn’t be proposing a relationship if I wasn’t serious about wanting it.”

It’s your turn to press. “You want it now, sure. But you’re not going to dump me in a few months if someone else who catches your eye comes along?”

Blinking once, deliberately, Lou shakes his head. “No. I’m rarely interested in people.” He pauses, and breaks the eye contact with you, and you sense a raw, blatant truthfulness in his words. “And it’s even rarer that I like them as much as I like you. I want... to relate to people. I want to have relationships and friendships. But most of the time I find it’s impossible. People end up being shallow, and petty, and wrong.” The bitterness in his words is clear. “They don’t listen to me, and they always inevitably make things... complicated.”

He seems lost, for a moment. You take his hands in yours gently, and smooth your thumb across his knuckles.

“I understand,” You murmur. “In a way. Relationships come easy to me. Getting people to like me, to trust me. But connecting on a deeper level... isn’t so easy.”

Lou’s attention snaps back to you, and he watches you like a vulture closing in on its dying prey.

“You’re going to be my girlfriend,” he implores, an unspoken threat lining his tone, the kind which you couldn’t even put words to if you tried. “Aren’t you?”

You nod. “I just have one question left.”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take me home tonight, Louis Bloom?”

---

Louis does take you home. On the cab ride back to his apartment, his hand never once leaves the small of your back, as though he feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll vanish. He’s quiet for nearly the entire ride, as if he’s mapping out the night ahead in his mind, trying to anticipate how the evening will go so he has total control.

Silly Lou. If he wants total control, you’ll simply give it to him. He doesn’t need to work so hard for it.

Closing and locking the door behind you, Lou takes off his shoes and sets them aside, and throws his keys onto his counter. Now late in the evening, the lights from the city outside shine in from Lou’s uncovered window, and the room is silent, save for the sound of cars speeding by his apartment. Even with the room barely lit, you can see Lou watching you, and feel the way his focus sharpens and becomes carnivorous.

Your heart begins to hammer as alarm bells go off in your mind. Every instinct you have tells you that Lou is a threat, and it makes you feel absolutely wicked.

He walks across the room in slow, stiff strides, keeping his eyes on you. He stops in front of you.

“Take of your clothes.” He says, then walking past you, across the room. Lou picks up a camera from his computer desk, and turns back to you. “You can set them down on the couch. When you’re finished, follow me into the bedroom.” With those words, he disappears from your sight, heading into a room that you’ve never seen before, but you assume is the bedroom.

Quickly, you follow his instructions. You’re so nervous you feel nearly ill, and though you’d imagined many times how an evening with Lou would go, you didn’t expect this. Folding your clothes neatly as you disrobe, you feel bare and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t before. It was one thing to know Lou was watching you when you were naked through a camera. It was another to strip down in his home.

You walk lightly into the bedroom, stopping as you pass the threshold of the door. Lou stands at the end of the bed, his camera in his hands, watching. Moving swiftly, he snaps a photo of you as you stand there, feeling more than a little shy. You blink in surprise at the flash, and swallow your nerves.

“Good,” He says. His eyes rake over your body. “You’re perfect. Lay down on the bed.”

“Okay,” You reply breathlessly.

You’re pretty sure your entire body is blushing. Gingerly, you crawl up onto Lou’s bed, and lay back on top of his smooth, navy blue sheets. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watch him raise the camera again.

“Spread your legs,” He orders, “I want to see you.”

Shivering, you let your legs fall open, glancing off to the side as he snaps his second photo. His stare is too intense- you’ve never felt more naked in your life. Looking back to him, you can tell how aroused he is at a glance, and it’s pleasing to know that he’s more affected by you than his expression would let on.

Lowering the camera, Lou walks around to the side of the bed. He takes your wrist carefully in his grasp, and moves your arm so that it is placed over your head. When he lets go, you keep it there, and Lou smiles wistfully at you, a pleasant hum of approval escaping his throat.

“You look worried,” He notes, “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You answer truthfully.

“Open your mouth slightly and look at the camera.” You do as he demands, and he snaps his third picture. With that, he lowers the camera and places it on the bedside table, seemingly satisfied.

Hastily, Lou crawls over you, onto the bed. Hovering over you he looks down at you for a long minute, his hands on either side of your head, his body caging you against the bed. You are, in every manner of the word, trapped.

Lou moves his head down, and kisses you, fervent and victorious.

By the time Lou finally touches you, you’re more than ready for him. His touches and movements are clumsy, and not necessarily skilled, but your skin feels set alight by him. Every press of his fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and every kiss pressed to your skin another wave of satisfaction. His eagerness and your attraction to him makes up for anything that he lacks in his technique, and your body responds to him gladly.

As he is with everything, Lou is ferocious and unyielding, and his claiming of you is nothing short of a conquest. Exactly as you'd wanted. Exactly as you'd planned.

After, you lay beside him, shivering and sweating. Lou uses his hand to push his bangs out of his face, and looks from the ceiling, to you. For once, you find his gaze warm, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

A moment of silence passes. You and Lou pant and relax into the space, and he lays an arm affectionately across your waist. It’s such a peaceful moment that you think it must be just about time that you lay all of your cards on the table.

“You know, next time, we should just have sex in my apartment. That way, instead of taking pictures, you can just review the footage from the cameras you set up.”

You keep your tone nonchalant and easy, but you can feel Lou stiffen beside you. His arm, which had been relaxed, now grips you tightly, and he turns to stare at you fully, eyes wide and wild.

Your heart is in your throat as you watch Lou’s mouth twitch. You can almost feel him assessing whether or not you’re a threat to him, can see him trying to understand how this changes things.

He may be wondering if he’s going to need to hurt me, you think.

“Excuse me?” He whispers, voice low, and you have to swallow a laugh at his incredulousness. If this situation wasn’t so tense, it would be funny.

Carefully, you reach over and cup his face in your hands. You admire him openly, smoothing your thumb across his bruised cheekbone and looking over his injured features. You absolutely delight in him, and make no attempt to hide it.

“Don’t worry, Lou. I’m on your team,” You whisper back, smile bordering manic. “I know about all of it. I've known. Okay?”

He continues to stare at you, silent, assessing.

“All of it?” He repeats hesitantly. You nod.

“We’re going to make a great couple, don’t you think?” You ask him, and his expression remains unchanged, still disbelieving and suspicious.

And then, Lou surges forward and kisses you so suddenly and forcefully that you feel as though all of the air in your lungs has been knocked out of you. Pressing his mouth to yours, consuming, Lou wraps his arms around your body, and holds you to him as if you were his life line.

---

“He had you pose as a grief counsellor to speak with the victim’s family. No ethical news source is going to accept this.”

Nina Romina sits in front of you. It has been several weeks since you first went home with Lou, and you’re sitting across from Nina in her office, your hands folded in your lap. She holds a sample of your interview, typed out into a manuscript, which contains several juicy details about a double homicide that even the police hadn’t been able to gather.

“That’s why we’re bringing it to KWLA 6,” you reply smoothly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed Lou’s contributions.”

Nina’s mouth presses into a thin line, and she says nothing.

“You haven’t said no,” you add, and she glares at you.

“Print journalism is dead. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that he sent you instead of coming here himself. And don’t think that I don’t know exactly what is going on between you two.” Nina snorts, looking away. She’s irked. You shrug off her comments, knowing that her annoyance means she’s probably going to take the deal you’ve laid out for her.

She looks back down at the papers in her hands, and then to you. She seems to consider something, and her expression softens.

“You know, I really do feel for you. This is good work, and I know that Lou is using you. He has a way of... making people do what he wants them to. Blackmailing them, bullying them, whatever he can do to get what he wants, he does it. There’s something seriously wrong with him. I don’t know what he’s done to you. But... I could maybe pull some strings. Get you a job here, instead. Get you out of there” She looks at you expectantly.

You stand up, and smooth out the wrinkles of your dress. A wry smile spreads across your face.

“Ms. Romina. I think you’re confused about my relationship with Lou.” You can’t stop the way your smile widens, “I know what your relationship with him with him was like, so I can understand why you would be. But I assure you, Lou has never asked me to do anything I’m not comfortable doing, both during and outside of work.”

You pause, amused by the shock in her expression at your sudden change in tone. Just moments before, she had believed you were harmless, like most people do when meeting with you. You continue cheerily.

“Lou is my boss. And he’s my partner, among other things. A word of advice to you: don’t presume that you know anything about us. Now, on this interview we’ve presented you with today. You and I both know that you’d be posting it as an article online, so don’t give me this ‘print is dead’ bullshit. We also both know that your ratings have dipped ever since Lou started exploring other networking options. We’d be open to negotiating an exclusive contract with you... on our conditions, and our pricing. So... can Lou expect a call from you later today?”

A long, tense moment stretches between you, before warily, Nina says, “Yes, he can.”

“Excellent.” You reply, taking back your copy of the interview sample from her hand. As you turn to leave, you hear Nina speak from behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” Nina breathes, shaking her head. “Who the fuck are you?”

You pause at the doorway.

“I’m just the assistant.” You reply, leaving without sparing her a second glance.

#lou bloom #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #slasher fic #slasher x reader #my writing #horror/romance #dark fic #louis bloom #lou bloom x reader #tw stalking

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