#lou bloom

[seven-meds]

Lou Bloom: Coyote

#Nightcrawler #Lou Bloom #Art #Cartoons

[charliehoennam]

angel.

Pairing: Louis Bloom (nightcrawler) x F!reader A/N: i blame jake for this. lou bloom is a fucking psycho, stay away from people like him. this is purely fictional, people. this was named out of inspiration from angel by massive attack, so kudos to them as well.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, NON-CON drug use and NON-CON intercourse, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies, kiddies), crime, language, somnophilia. (consent is EVERYTHING, yall. again, this is fictional)

Word count: 5,900+ ( i think this might be the most i've ever written)

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

It’s early morning as you’re carrying a box into your newly rented apartment.

Louis is stunned when his eyes land on you, forgetting about the water he’d been using to hydrate his plant until it drips onto his foot and snaps him back to reality.

“Ah, shit” he hissed, quickly lifting the glass up. 

Turning his attention back to the window, he watches as you enter the living room. It’d been empty for a long time; he was curious as to who would move in there. All the apartments were pretty much the same. What made this apartment so special was that it was directly across from his. With uncurtained windows, he could look right inside from his.

Hypnotized by you, he’s frozen in place. The feeling is all too foreign for him.

Louis isn’t exactly a social butterfly. In fact, he always found easier to avoid people as much as humanly possible. Not out of fear, but out of disdain. At the height of his career with Video Production News taking off, he strongly believes he’s learned to manipulate normal human emotions which he’s almost never felt.

There’s just something about you that brings out some of those unfamiliar feelings in him and floods him with desire. Attraction surely has a hand in it. No one could deny your beauty, and your body makes only more difficult for him to ignore you.

Infatuated by you, he watches you attentively from the corner of his window. He can’t let you see him. He can’t let you catching him staring at your ass curve as you bend down to pick up a box outside. The leggings you wear provoke him further, outlining your panty on the back and mound in the front.

He doesn’t even know your name yet, but you already have his imagination going wild. It’s almost like you’re calling for him.  

With his blood flowing straight down to his cock, he zones out daydreaming about what you’d look like on all fours, bent down with your face buried in his sheets. He thinks about how round your ass would look perched in the air for his gaze; how inviting your pussy would look from behind; how soft your skin must feel despite the goosebumps he’d make you feel.

Such a pretty little thing for him to violate.

His hand seems to have a life of its own as it reaches his crotch, palming his twitching cock over his gray slacks. He knows, right there and then, that he has to have you and his devious mind is already churning with a plan.

He decides to wait until the people helping you - who he assumes are your friend - leave. In the meantime, he times his exit to the precise moment everyone’s in your apartment having pizza to make a quick run to Bob’s Market around the corner.

He needs an excuse to approach you without raising any alarms in your mind. He needs you to feel safe around him; make you think he has only the most genuine interests at heart.

Chocolate chip cookies should do just that. Who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies?

The warm L.A. sun shines down on him, illuminating his deviant plan. He wonders how he got so lucky to be at the right place, at the right time. He knows he has to do whatever he can to make you his.

No one will love you like he will. No one can take care and protect you the way he can. He would kill for you. How many people could do that without fearing the consequences for you? How many would devote themselves to you and do absolutely anything to keep you, even if he has to harm you?

Entering the store, he wanders around for a minute before opening the refrigerator door and grabbing a package of the ready-to-bake cookie dough. You really should be grateful. You got him baking before he even knows your name.

Fidgeting with his keys in his pockets, he eyes the supply store across the street. A lightbulb lights up in his head with an addition to his plan.

With the cookie dough in a plastic bag, he strolls over to the supply store. The ropes on display make him stop in his wandering stride.

“Not yet,” he tells himself.

Convincing himself to control his impulse, he picks up the silicone putty he came for and purchases it with ease.

“Locked myself out of my car the other day. Gotta make sure to a get copy of it made today, but I also got some errands to run. Life in L.A. never sleeps, does it?”

With his chin tilted down and eyebrows narrowed, his chuckle unsettles the cashier although the poor terrified man nervously smiles back. There is no ignoring the chills Louis gives him.

Unsettling people is in his nature and Louis hasn’t quite learned how to tweak that part of him. He supposes he has to practice his smile a little more in the mirror.

As he arrives back to his building, he overhears one of the guys coming out of the building to collect another box. You’re nowhere in sight thankfully, so he lowers his head and pushes the sunglasses perched on his nose up along its bridge.

Once inside, he heads to the bathroom for a quick piss. As he’s washing his hands, his stoic gaze lifts. He stares at the mirror emotionlessly.

He knows right from wrong. His methods may be questionable, but they’re not done without thought and calculation.

Opening the medicine cabinet, the transparent orange bottle of sleeping pills seems to glow at him. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s morally wrong, but when has moral high ground ever stopped him before?

Tucking the bottle into his pocket, he closes the cabinet before staring at his reflection. He’s determined to do whatever he has to. He needs to have you. This is hopeless love at first sight. Many people wish for love like his.

Once the cookies are baked and cooled off, he’s stood in the kitchen assembling them into the nicest plastic container he owns when he overhears you saying goodbye to your friends down below. He rushes to the window.

If anyone of the people assisting you are in a relationship with you, this would be the time to find out, right? A kiss on the lips or – if the man is anything like the boyfriend you should have – he’d offer to stay and help you unpack. Maybe christen the new home.

Louis doesn’t even realize how he’s holding his breath until it finally fogs the glass when he breathes out. You hug the men one by one. There’s no kiss on the lips. His hopes get higher as he smirks to himself.

Your conversation is distant, but he can hear better after he cracks his window open just a little bit.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay and help you unpack?” Matt asks.

He freezes and deception grows in his chest along with a pang of anger.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You guys have done so much already with the packing and carrying all the boxes.”

“We wouldn’t mind staying longer to help you,” Tyler joins in.

“No, really. I’m good,” you chuckle at their insistence. “I got this, guys. Don’t worry.”

“Alright. Just call if you need anything else. And thank you for the pizza and beer,” Matt smiles at you. “And I’m really sorry about all this mess.”

“Will you stop apologizing? I understand entirely. Just make sure you take care of my best friend and her baby and we’re good” you smirk moving to hug Matt after hugging Tyler. Relief washes over Louis. He concludes they’re only friends.

“I’ll see you later then. Take care.”

You nod and wish the same back to Matt. You watch the boys head out towards their car as you stand in the entrance's doorway.

While you begin unpack in the early afternoon, Louis realizes he needs to wait until it’s early evening for his plan to be precisely timed with the darkness of the night.

The cookies are done and now, he has to wait.

The move was smoother than you’d expected.

You had to move out when your roommate Cara told you she’d be needing more room since she found out she and Matt were expecting a child. With him moving in and a baby to prepare for, the apartment would be even more crowded than it was at the time. And you couldn’t agree more.

It was a sudden bomb, sure, but the fact that they knew that and were willing to do whatever they could to help softened the blow a whole lot. Matt even offered to pay for the entire move, but you couldn’t let them do that. Especially with a baby on the way.

Time was all you asked for and they made sure to give you plenty of it. So, instead, he offered to help with the move physically with the assistance of his younger brother Ty.

Once the brothers drove off safely, you walk back to your apartment. Thankfully, there are only two levels to the condo, and your apartment is on the ground level.

You look around your new home as you think about where to start so you decide to set up your sound system to get some music playing. Music always helps to provide a sense of company and pass the time.

You begin with the bedroom since you figure it’ll take most of your time. Besides, it’d be nice to not have to worry about where you’ll sleep when you’re too tired to continue and decide to call it a night.

Afterwards, you move to the kitchen to start organizing everything into its rightful place. You want to make sure you have your flow down. Coffee powder, filters and mugs go above the coffee maker. Plates, bowls and silverware go near the stove. Glasses go next to the fridge. Dish towels go in the drawer by the sink.

With every item neatly and strategically placed, the feeling of independence blossoms. This is your home now. Your haven. The very air you breathe smells of freedom. You can’t help, but smile as you look around and admire the apartment, although you realize it definitely needs more furniture.

Now that you don’t have to consult anyone anymore about placing artwork on the walls or buying an armchair, you can gradually work your way into giving the apartment a more personal touch.

Soon after you set all the pots and pans in a cabinet below the counter, you hear a knock at your door. You frown as you hesitate for a moment, thinking about who it could be.

Maybe it’s Matt and Tyler coming back to pick something they’d forgotten up. It has to be; you told very few people about your move and even fewer knew your new address. You weren’t expecting to have any guests over either.

So, you walk stealthily quiet towards the door to peer through the tiny peephole.

There’s a man standing on the other side of the door. You don’t know him. You’ve never seen him before, but the plastic container in his hands intrigues your curiosity.

“He’s probably just a neighbor”, you reassure yourself.

Louis notices your shadow casting underneath the door from the other side. The simple fact that you’re already acknowledging his existence has his heart thrumming with adrenaline and excitement, which he forces himself to contain.

“She knows me now,” he thinks to himself.

Watching him glance down at the foot of the door, you realize he must already know you’re at the door. He can see you. At this point, it would just be rude to pretend you’re not home, but you’re not sure who he is.

All you can tell is that he seems pretty attractive through the peephole which isn’t really helpful, but it does entice you to open the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, hi. I couldn’t help but notice you just moved in earlier today. My name’s Louis. I’m your neighbor. I live in the next building in apartment 3F.”

He doesn’t sound threatening. His voice is actually softer than his appearance. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him gives you the chills and you can’t figure out what or why.

“I’m not a raging psycho killer if that’s your concern,” he chuckles eerily. “I’ve just lived here for a few years. I always bring cookies to new neighbors,” he lies.  “Just a modest way to welcome people, I suppose. The city of Los Angeles is harsh enough. Why must we be the same?” he smiles strangely, making for an awkward moment of silence.

“Would you like me to leave them by the door?” he continues.

It’s like he can almost smell your hesitance through the door.

How does he know?

Not wanting to seem rude on your first day on the block, you unlatch the locks on the door and open it up with a tight-lipped polite smile.

God, you look even prettier up close. It’s hard for him to hide his admiration. You could never tell, but he’s battling the impulse to pin you down and fuck you senseless.  You’d look so lovely all tied up for him.

You can’t deny he has some of the most beautiful features you’ve ever seen. His clean-shaven face flaunts a few brown freckles. Faded smile lines curve around his long nose and thin rosy lips, making the latter more inviting they already are. His jaw is prominent from his tall, slim build. Large doe eyes as blue as Neptune are framed by a pair of thick eyebrows that makes his gaze even more intimidating. Dimples depress into his hollowed cheeks as he smiles charmingly at you, revealing his perfectly lined teeth.

“Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you,” you respond with a soft voice, reaching for the container. “I’d invite you in, but my apartment is a mess right now. I’d rather you see it when it’s less chaotic.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” he affirmed with a sinister smile. “Like I said, I just wanted to welcome you to the block. If you need help with anything, I’d be more than pleased to assist you in any way possible.”

He looks very friendly and very well-spoke, but you can’t shake how his vacant his eyes seem to be.

Maybe it’s the slightly greasy medium length brown hair parted to the side and tucked behind his ears. Maybe it’s how he towers over you with hunched shoulders and casually scans the apartment behind you between his words. Maybe it’s the outdated button-down shirt he’d worn that made it seem like an attempt at dressing formal.

You’ve only just met the man, but something about him has your squeezing your thighs together. Someone about him draws you in and turns you on in a way that you simply cannot explain.  

“Thank you. I will do that,” you assure him. “Sorry, what’s your apartment again?”

“I live in 3F. It’s located in the neighboring building just across.”

“3F,” you repeat making a mental note of his home number. “Yeah, I’ll stop by if I need anything.”

“Please don’t hesitate. I’m always happy to be of service. I will let you return to your previous engagement, I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted anything.” He knows he hasn’t, but he needs you to believe this wasn’t planned. “I look forward to seeing you around, Y/N. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

 “Yeah, same to you, Mr. Bloom.”

You hold your hand out to shake his. He almost swoons at your formality. Manners mean everything to him, so he reaches out and shakes your hand with gently firm grip.

The veins on his pale hands have your pussy growing wet at the thought of them inside your cunt. You’re sure he could reach your special spot with such long slender fingers. You wonder how many of them you could fit inside your pussy simultaneously.

“Please, call me Lou,” he grins baring his perfect teeth.

“Lou, then,” you smirk correcting yourself. “I will see you around. Thanks again.”

“Enjoy the cookies.”

He turns around with a smile and calmly walk down the hallways towards the exit. His hand burns with the shadowing touch of your hand lingering on his skin.

You close the door behind and lean against the wood with a curious frown. You had expected him to live on the same floor or at least in the same building.

You shake off the thought as you lock your door and admire the cookies he’d brought on your walk back to the kitchen. It really is a kind gesture, one you thought only happened in movies. And you just happen to love cookies.

The pieces of his plan have all been set and now he can only wait.

To make his time useful, he decides to sit and think about every single process of his plan. He cannot be unprepared. There cannot be any surprises.

He starts with the locks and walks to his door, standing still and hollow as he stares at the rusty and faded golden locks. Assuming all the apartments are the same, he closes his eyes to remember the details of your encounter. He remembers hearing a chain slide open and the mechanical twisting click. They appear to be the same as the locks on his door.  

He opens his eyes and studies them carefully, thinking about how to get the chain open believing it to be his only obstacle. The twist lock would be easy. His thieving days have been behind him for a while now – his company is doing great enough; he doesn’t have to steal anymore – but breaking and entering is still second nature to him. Picking a lock is hardly a challenge.

Sitting at his computer, he researches ways to unhook the chain. He quickly finds a quick and simple method that doesn’t involve leaving any evidence behind, so he grabs his tool kit and searches for the only two object he needs.

Once he’s confident enough after a few successful attempts from inside his home, he proceeds to lock his door once more and climbs out an open window. With his apartment at ground level, it allows him to climb out with ease. He leaves it open just in case his practice test turns out unsuccessful.

He walks around to the building’s entrance with the kit, a small roll of duct tape and a rubber band.

After successfully picking his twist lock open from the outside this time, he opens the door to the extent of the chain. His long arm allows him to reach inside. Once the rubber band is hooked through a link of the chain, he tapes the other end of the rubber band to the door. That way, when the door closes, the chain slides to the furthest end with the movement, unlocking itself and falling to the side to hang freely.

A grin creeps onto his lips, stretching grimly as pride fills him. Old habits die hard; he giggles knowing he can still be the sneaky thief when he needs to be.

Meanwhile, you decide to indulge on a short coffee break, so once your coffee is made, you sit on your couch to enjoy the sweet treat your new neighbor was kind enough to gift you with.

If he hadn’t already been infatuated by you before, he is now in love with you. He can’t stop thinking about your sweet nature and manners. His heart races as his mind lingers on your smile and the thought of your voice. He’s eager to learn every single detail about you.

Despite being a workaholic, he decides tonight is a special exception because you’re just special like that.

Back inside his apartment, Louis calls his second-in-command of Video Production News to inform his team he won’t be joining them on the hunt for coverage tonight.

“A more important and rather urgent setback has presented itself and, in order to prevent further undesired and unpredicted hindrances, I have to eliminate them now.”

Having worked closely to Louis, his team knew better than question him. His strict tone while reminding them to be on their best behavior only enforces that he is not to be disappointed.

It isn’t even 9 p.m. but you’re feeling beyond exhausted at this point. The coffee you had a couple hours ago was in vain. It seems to have given you the opposite effect.

You try to persist on unpacking, but your body feels so heavy already. It must be from all the exercise of moving. Lifting heavy boxes, walking up a couple flights of stairs, kneeling and standing. It’s been a very busy day and you’re just tired.

You make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Due to the weight your tired limbs and their dragging, you opt to not wash your hair. It would take too much energy that you simply don’t have. You can barely keep your eyes open as you rinse the lathered soap off your body.

You don’t even bother putting on underwear. Just a t-shirt will have to suffice because that’s all you muster before you collapse on your bed.

Its’ cozy embrace enraptures you into a deep sleep and, within seconds, you’re out cold.

Louis watches you exit the bathroom from his window. His breath hitches when he sees you drop your towel on the floor of your bedroom.

The medicine is kicking in as he predicted.

He smirks to himself, proud of his achievement. Excitement floods through him when he notices you didn’t bother much with clothes. That’ll make his job so much easier.

His true self comes forth, shedding him of his friendly – or his attempt at it - facade.

He ties his hair into a small bun behind his head.

He planned this already to make sure he wouldn’t need much. Just his camcorder, latex gloves, a key mold. This may be the first time, but it certainly will not be the last. The last object he takes along is a pocket knife that he strongly hopes he won’t have to use.

His stride is calm though his heart pounds in his chest. He prays the got dosage just right enough so you don’t wake up.

His eyes scan around as he crosses the small courtyard to your building. No one is outside; no one has seen him.

As he reaches your door again, he slides the gloves onto his hands. It doesn’t take him long to enter your apartment with quiet footsteps after all the practice he’s had.

He’s never felt closer to anyone in his life than right now.

The apartment has you all over it. These are your belongings. In a way, he feels as if he’s penetrating his way into your intimacy. The thought is enticing enough to make his cock harden a little in his pants.

He wanders around your new home with his camcorder already filming, opening boxes and cabinets and drawers as he roams. He needs to record every detail about you. What do you like to eat? What are your movie preferences? What music do you listen to? Do you read? Reading is important to him. It is a sign of intellect.

You don’t seem to have any pets. If you had a dog, it would’ve been aware of his presence already. There aren’t any bowls of food and water set out. Much like him, you seem be a loner.

The apartment is much like his. Small enough for one. No bedroom. Just a kitchen near the entrance with a window at the other end. A small bathroom and closet for your clothes.

He wonders what you usually smell like as he enters the bathroom. He finds your shampoo and condition and raises each to his nose. Then your deodorant. And your perfumes. He closes his eyes, admiring how heavenly you smell.

He makes sure to film the label of your perfume to buy one later and spray it against his pillow so he can sleep with the scent of you every night.

Can’t you see how much he loves you?

As he silently makes his way towards your living room, he gulps with anticipation. His palms grow clammy as he stares at you, asleep in your bed.

Despite his excitement, his hand reminds steady as he focuses the filming on you. For a couple moments, he stands at the foot of your bed just watching you sleep.

You look so pretty. So peaceful.

He would slaughter whoever attempted to disturb you. He knows it’s rather ironic, but he’s so captivated by you.

He can’t stay away. He wishes he could climb into your bed; that he could wrap his arms around you, inhale your scent, touch and kiss you over every inch of your body to worship you as you deserve to be worshipped.

That’ll take time, but he will make it happen somehow.

Eventually snapping out of his daydream, he moves to the dresser and pulls open a couple drawers.

The first has your jewelry and accessories. He studies them to better understand your taste hopefully for future reference. He’s encouraged to take a ring, so he could wear it around and take a part of you with him everywhere he goes.

He finds a small one that is big enough to fit on his picky. It’s nothing too special. Just a thin silver band that you happen to have a few of in different size. It would be easy for you to assume it got lost in the move, if you notice it at all.

The second contains what he is looking for: your panties. His eyes grow darker as he rummages through them, picking the sexiest ones to lay out on the wooden surface of the dress to film them better.

The thought of you wearing them for him has his cock hardened completely and leaking with pre-cum. He can feel the wet spot soaking his underwear. He would give anything to have you wear them, rubbing the lacy fabric against his face and cock with your pussy.

He takes turns smelling each of them, inhaling the sweet intoxicating scent of your pussy and fabric softener.

He finds a sexy lacy pair in his favorite color as he sets the panties back in their drawer. That one belongs to him now.

The urge to rub his cock to completion gets harder to control as he tucks the panty into his pocket. A dark thought blooms within his mind as he focuses back on your sleeping figure.

You’re so unconscious that you don’t even feel him lifting the covers. He has to bite his bottom lip when he sees you’re in the perfect position for him.

“Such a little fucking whore. Bet she loves getting rammed. Probably loves doing what Nina rarely ever did,” he thinks to himself.

You’re on your side with the top leg bent up and spread against the mattress. With your other leg stretched out underneath, providing Louis with the perfect shot of your bare pussy.

He lifts his camera to pan the frame slowly onto the sight of your pretty little puffy pussy displayed just for him.

He can’t help but palm his cock through his trousers. He needs to cum. It’s starting to hurt. His balls are just so full and his cock, so painfully hard.

He growls lowly at your exposure and freezes instantly, watching if he woke you up. You don’t stir in the slightest, not even when his long slender fingers gently part your plush lips to spread them open for his private little video.

Licking his gloved fingers, he savors the taste of your cunt and hisses contently. He smiles devilishly when you don’t react to his fingertips slowly probing your entrance. Until the moment you finally turn onto your back, unconsciously spreading your legs even wider.

He wonders if you’re awake and enjoying his little teasing, but judging by your steady breathing, you’re sleeping like a rock.

He licks his lips at the pussy opportunity splayed out in front of him.

His menacing gaze narrows on the sight between your displayed pussy as he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down enough to let his cock spring free. He thinks about penetrating you and fucking you with just his tip. Would it wake you up?  

He carefully climbs onto your bed and positions himself on his knees between your legs with his camera back in hand. He spits in his gloved hand and gathers his leaking pre-cum to lube his cock up. The slick latex against his skin makes the stroking even easier.

Staring down at your beautiful folds, he wishes he could take his time, but truth be told, he’s so fucking hard already and he needs to get it out of his system.

Your cunt looks so pretty and juicy that he wishes you could use his face as a seat all day.

His cock throbs in his hand as he gently pressed his tips between your folds, pausing only to zoom the camera in on your pussy and his cock now perfectly aligned and connected.

God, it feels so perfect like your pussy was made for his cock. So warm and soft against his. He can’t imagine what you feel like inside. He wants nothing more than to pump you full of his cum until it drips out, just so he could push the leakage back inside with his cock.

The thought alone is enough to get him close. He has to be careful and slow.

He pushes his cock past your pretty lips slowly. With his mouth hanging open in an O, he closes his eyes as he fights back a moan. You feel so deliciously good and tight around him. He doesn’t want to cum to just yet though.

The movement of his hips is slow as he takes his time pushing in and pulling out. He could swear you’re wet, but he assumes it’s just his eager cock.

Carefully setting your legs to drape around his thighs for a better position, his pace picks up a little.

At this point, the friction of his cock and your perfect pussy is audible to him, but it doesn’t seem to even bother you. He doesn’t even care about anything other how deliciously heavenly your cunt feels.

He’s close. So fucking close. He pauses his movement, holding his cock inside your walls to reach up and gently push your shirt up past your chest.

He toys with your exposed tits. He needs to feel you.

Hooking his teeth under the rim of the glove at his wrist, he uses them to remove his hand from the glove. Once it’s tucked into his pockets, he reaches up to continue playing with your breasts.

He licks his lips imagining them wrap around your nipples, suckling and biting your tender flesh to mark you and let everyone know what a whore you are, but most importantly his whore.

He just has to get his mouth on them. They look too irresistible to miss what could be the only opportunity he has.

He sets the camera on the bed beside you to film himself fucking you while simultaneously sucking on your tits, kneading them each in his large hands.

He’s balls deep in your tight cunt now. You must be so damn drugged because your eyes aren’t even moving and your breathing is still steady. Even if you were dead, it wouldn’t stop him for fucking you. He just loves you that much.

After giving your breasts the well-deserved attention, he can’t hold back anymore and believes he doesn’t have to.

If you haven’t woken up by now, then pounding your pussy raw definitely won’t wake you up.

So  he grabs the camcorder again and starts fucking you harder and faster like a filthy little slut with his hand groping at your tits, making sure to get your pussy and tits all in one angle.

He wants to watch your tits bounce as he pounds your cunt mercilessly when he jacks off to the video later.

Sliding his hand to your hip to hold you steady, he relishes how the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoes through your apartment.

He wishes you could be awake to scream his name until your neighbors complain with fists to their walls.

It’s all too much.

He soon pulls out just in time to coat your pussy with his pearly white load.

You just look so pretty painted with his cum.

“My Mona Lisa,” he thinks to himself. “That’s what I’ll name this footage.”

Pulling his cock away, he lowers the camera for a close-up of his masterpiece taking his time to get every single angle of the white streaks on your flesh.

Staring intently at your cunt with wide eyes as he films, the feeling that floods him is the same at the one he felt on the night of the car crash in Benedict Canyon. This is another of his greatest accomplishments. He pants with adrenaline.

Curiously, he dips two fingers into his bodily ‘paint’ and toys with it, enjoying how slick your lips feel on his fingers. If he wasn’t so spent right now, he’d go at again and again.

He wonders how he’s going to clean you up now. He made a mess on your pussy. He can’t leave you in this state. It’ll be too obvious when you wake up in the morning.

Setting his camera on your bed to get him in the shot once again, he scoots down your bed and aligns his mouth to your coated pussy.

Snaking his arms under your thighs – letting them dangle over his shoulders – his hands reach your breasts to gently knead them. He wants to squeeze them hard, but he’s worried that might be the final drop that wakes you up.

He doesn't mind that his cum is all over your. It's really an excuse just to get his mouth on your cunt.

He takes his time letting his tongue explore your pussy, swiveling over every mound of your lips and dipping into every valley. Using his fingers to pry your pussy open, he stretches you enough to delve his tongue into your used hole.

He was careful not to cum inside you, but he yearns to taste you.

Deciding you’re clean enough, he carefully removes himself to stand and takes his camera to record each angle of your used naked figure, carefully circling around your room and zooming in your pussy, tits and face.

You look so pretty and innocent in comparison to he violated you.

Taking the advantage of your position, he quickly sets his camera on your nightstand and rushes to the bathroom to find something to clean you up with.

Locating some wet wipes under your sink, he turns the hot water to warm a couple sheets and heads back to clean you up.

He thoughtfully lowers your shirt and covers your body back up. He’s not a complete monster; there is genuine care for you in him.

He kisses your head gently before stepping back to look for any further evidence.

Heading towards the door, he finds your keys handing up on the wall. There aren’t many. Just three. So, he tests each one out to find your apartment key. Once he does, he takes the silicone putty he’d placed in an old and empty Altoids metal container.

He stamps the key into the mold twice, making sure to get both sides of the key perfectly imprinted.  

His copy of your key has to be perfect to save time for the next time.

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[muadweeb]

#the boys #homelander #walter white #joker #american psycho #patrick bateman #lou bloom #nightcrawler #fight club #calvin candie #django unchained #the walking dead negan #tiktok #dexter #dank memes #tiktok vidoes

[deputyrook]

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

[adinskyy]

I rewatched nightcrawler and the only thing i can say is that lou bloom is autistic af to me and you can’t change my mind

#nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #yappeeee #lou bloom

[klonopinandketamine]

They Understood the Plot:

#male manipulator #I love them #my boys #i’d kill for her #anton chigurh #no country for old men #Billy loomis #scream #arvin russell #devil all the time #taxi driver #travis bickle #fight club #american horror story #tate langdon #nightcrawler #patrick bateman #american psycho #Alex #lou bloom

[fangerine]

“What if my problem wasn’t that I don’t understand people, but that I don’t like them? What if I was obliged to hurt you for something like this? I mean, physically. I think you’d have to believe afterwards, if you could, that agreeing to participate and then backing out at the critical moment was a mistake. Because that’s what I’m telling you. As clearly as I can.”

NIGHTCRAWLER (2014) dir. Dan Gilroy

#nightcrawler #dan gilroy #lou bloom #jake gyllenhaal #rene russo #riz ahmed #gifs #gif set #movies #film #movie gifs #film gifs #moive edit #film edit

[oddmediaforall]

Oh my god??????

#lou bloom #louis bloom #nightcrawler #nightcrawler 2014 #jake gyllenhaal

[enveloved]

#lalo salamanca #lou bloom #könig #arthur morgan #erik lehnsherr #i think thats it

[twilightfairie]

this genre of jake gyllenhaal pics >>

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[seven-meds]

Red eye in the dark

#Nightcrawler #Lou Bloom #Art #Illustration

[charliehoennam]

angel part 2

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis and his newfound crush slip deeper into their attraction after the 'wet dream'.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The early morning sunlight begins to stream into your room. Its beaming warmth stirs you from your deep slumber.

Your head is pounding. The room feels it's still spinning around you and your mouth is drier than a desert.

Water would be really good right now, but you're not ready to get up yet. Your limbs still feel heavy and sore.

As consciousness slowly permeates back into you, you realize the soreness concentrates down between your hips. You lay in bed and think back to the dream you had.

You're riddled with confusion. You've had plenty of hyper realistic dreams before, but this felt different.

It felt so real and so good that you wish it had been real. You brush it off deciding to believe you're just so hung up on your neighbor. Being single for as long as you have been, his kind gesture and his piercing blue eyes are incredibly hard to not find so attractive.

You could still feel his warm breath on your skin. His hands felt soft and rough altogether gliding over your supple thighs and groping at your breasts. The memory of his wriggling tongue in your pussy already has it growing wet again.

You must've been really wet in your sleep judging by the stickiness on your sex. It seemed sort of clean; it must have rubbed against your bed sheets or something. It explains the small crusty stains on the cotton fabric.

Looks like you'll be doing laundry today. You needed to anyways. The stack of dirty clothes that you'd been ignoring during the packing process has piled up.

Louis watches you stir around in your bed from where he's stood behind his dull green curtains.

"So pretty even when you wake up," he thinks to himself.

He's so hypnotized by you, he doesn't even look down at the bowl of cereal in his hands as he eats calmly wondering if you know.

He watches your hand slide down between your legs to feel around, blissfully unaware as you search for any residue in your sore pussy.

His stare is relentlessly fixed on you. He can't look away, not that he even wants to. His heart drums faster in his chest along with his thoughts.

Does she know? Did she wake up? Is she going to touch herself? Did she enjoy it?

Inebriated with intrigue and curiosity, he stands frozen with one wide creepy eye peeping out from behind his curtain.

His mouth dries with anticipation, hoping you would touch yourself at the thought of being fucked by him. He can almost hear his blood rush in his head as his breath catches in his throat. He wishes he could hear every sound you make.

Lou doesn't even notice he's holding his only breath as you investigate your body, running a hand over your sore breasts and swollen pussy, when he sets his cereal down on the flower table by the window.

"I can't believe it," he thinks to himself. "That little filthy whore liked it. Can't get enough. Just the way I like it."

While you're asking yourself how this came to be, wondering if your little wet dream became a masturbating sleepwalking session, Lou's got his pants and belt open to unleash his heavy twitch dick.

With every recollection of your soft skin, the taste and the warmth of your pussy, his precum oozes from his domed head, allowing himself to smear it over his veiny member adding to the lube of his spit.

He can imagine how sweet your moans must sound. He would give anything to hear them while defiles your innocent body, plundering for the mind-numbing high.

It brings him to the idea of setting up cameras in your apartment, which doesn't sound so bad.

How come I hadn't thought of that before? He questions himself mentally, being the perverted voyager that he is.

He makes a mental note to plan that later. His mind is too impaired to churn out the details for that. Right now, all he can focus on how your hand is still between your legs.

As you think back to every possible explanation, your mind seems to only concentrate how realistic your dream felt.

You could smell the musky cologne of his body. You could feel his cock pushing and pulling in and out of you. You could feel his tongue wiggle between your folds once he was done pounding it ruthlessly.

The more you think about it, the more you ache for your neighbor.

The thought of him fucking you into your mattress drives you reach your heavy arm to your nightstand and pull out your vibrating friend.

The soreness of your limbs and the throbbing headache aren't enough to silence your pussy's craving. And it yearns for Lou.

Lou watches with a dry mouth hung open as you grind the humming cock against your pussy, drenching it with your slick to push it in.

You lick your lips and moan as you let the vibrator tease your clit, imagining Lou's face so clearly hovering over you as his dick penetrates your cunt.

The thought of the heavenly sounds your bodies would make as his hips snap against your sweaty hot skin.

You imagine threading your fingers into his silky hair as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue invading your core. The intensity of his thick-browed gaze up at you, gripping you with greedy hands and hunger as his mouth works it's wonder on you.

The watch on Lou's wrist rattles softly in the quiet of his apartment as he tugs his dick; his only little compliment to your performance.

With your legs spread wide, you push the vibrator into your slick slit and begin fucking yourself into your own bliss.

You're so fucking horny and drenched that the squelch of your pussy overcomes the vibrations of your toy. You're so hungry for cock and so pretty unknowingly putting yourself on display, holding one leg back to your chest as you fuck your pussy.

You're moaning, gasping and kneading your breast while Lou struggles to not cum just yet.

He wants to wait to cum with you. He wants to cum together because you're his. You were meant to be his and you have to cum together. He needs to feel - or at least pretend enough - that he's right back in your vice of a cunt, dicking you down raw.

His breath hitches as you get closer together and closer and closer until the pulling tension finally snaps in your cores, sheathing you both euphoric waves of pleasure.

"Fuck," he sighs looking at the curtains he'd just stained with ribbons of pearly white cum.

He really needs you again.

He wants more. He'll always want more.

Looking back out the window, he sees you slowly getting to walk to the bathroom and exit from view. He correctly assumes you've gone for a shower, but he needs another round.

With the camera hooked up to the tv, he finally sits back on his couch with your panties in hand. He presses play and begins to watch his work of art from the previous night, he threads his cock into your panties and begins to stroke his length.

He takes a bit of time to notice all the little intimate details of your home that reflect your tastes. Stroking his softened cock to its hardened state again, he makes notes of most of the things you love.

What a lucky little angel you are. He should be watching the news to see what his team's managed to capture without him. Yet here he is, prioritizing you. Worshipping you. You just don't know how truly special you are...yet.

Louis's head falls back as the vulgar images and sound lull him into bliss.

He remembers how pretty you looked. So exposed just for his eyes. All and only his even if just for a while.

Louis's chest heaves as he stares at the TV. You look so peaceful in your sleep. He wonders if he'll ever get to sleep beside you.

While Lou jacks his cock off to the dirty homemade video with your panties hooked around his cock, the fresh scent of the dark brew in your coffee pot wafts through your apartment, infiltrating your bathroom as you wash yourself in the shower.

The warm water rinses away the soreness of your body as you sit on the ground under the running shower.

You close your eyes to enjoy the soothing calm of the shower. Your mind begins to wander. What is it about him that has you so hung up on him?

Sure, he's attractive. He's no LA fitness model. Just a thin, young man with a deadly smile, luscious brown lock and piercing unyielding eyes that could burn a hole tight through you.

He looked fairly common, but there was still something there within that brought a chill up your spine until the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

To be entirely honest, you can't tell if you're attracted to him or scared of him. But whatever it is, it's pulling you like a magnet.

As he waters his treasured flower, he notices across from his window that you're gathering clothes and bedsheets, preparing a laundry basket as you nestle the laundry soap and softener upon the piled fabrics.

He sees this as an opportunity to get closer to you presenting itself. And given the mess he's made on the curtains and your stolen panties, he knows it'll have to be laundry day for him as well.

The complex you share has a community laundromat for the tenants. He presumes that's where you're going, he needs to get there before you do. He needs you to think it's all a mare coincidence.

He watches you wide-eyed as you set your basket down on the couch.

Your toast's popped up in the toaster.

He sighs in relief, knowing now he has enough time to gather his laundry and soap to race to the laundromat to get there before you do.

He stumbles through his apartment, gathering whatever he can find to toss aimlessly into his laundry basket. Then he gathers the curtains from his window to dump them into the basket, along with your dirty lace panties.

He kinda hates that he ruined them. Now, he'll have to wash them and that will wash away your precious scent. No worries, though. He'll just steal another next time and make sure he keeps that one sealed and cleaned to sniff whenever he craves your pussy.

Grabbing a few more clothes, not really caring if they're clean or dirty, he takes one more glance out the window and see that you're still enjoying your simple breakfast.

Dressed in a pink shirt, he ties his brown locks back away from his face and carries his basket on his hip as he calmly makes his way to the laundry room confident in his plan to win you over.

You finish your slices of buttered toast and coffee before wiping your hands together and quickly rinsing the dishes.

The move must have really taken a toll on you because your body is beyond tired, but you still need to push forward though all you wish you could do is sleep under your covers.

Taking a cold water bottle from the fridge, you walk out of your apartment with basket wearing a simple top, short denim shorts and a pair of flip flops.

As you approach the laundromat, you can hear a machine working already from the hallway. The door is wide open, providing more light into the dull dark laundry room.

Outdated washers and dryers line the the walls of the room - if you can even call it that. It really looks more like a building basement with the lack of windows.

You freeze for a minute as you quickly make out the familiar figure standing with his back to you as he calmly sets his clothes in the washer one item at a time.

After a glance over his shoulder, he turns around his head to flash a smile that attempts to seem more welcoming than devious, though faint worry radiating from your amygdala questions his succession in asserting comfort.

"Y/N, right? The new neighbor?" As if he could ever forget your name.

"Yeah. You're Lou, right?" you reply politely returning the smile.

Without any control, your pussy squeezes around nothing arching for him once again as you're reminded of your dream.

"Are you settling in alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Still have some unpacking to finish, but everything is going well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure thing. Oh, " suggest washer number 3. It works the best if you ask me. Don't bother with number 9. It'll take your coins, but it doesn't work. I personally believe it's intentionally rigged to steal our money."

"Thank you for that. I'll have to keep that in mind," you smile politely.

You wonder if it's actually true or if he just wants you to be closer to him given that washer number 3 is right next to him. Why wouldn't he take the best washer instead?

Brushing off the worrisome questions, you feel like you barely know him enough to make judgements about him, so you walk over to the washer beside his and start loading it up.

"Thank you for the cookies again. They were really good. I almost ate all of them."

He smiles to himself. Almost? That could only mean you didn't eat all of them, meaning there are more of the sleep-inducing cookies that can provide him with another opportunity and hopefully tonight.

His dick twitches at the excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoyed them. Although I admit they're much better when eating within the first two days. After that, they start to go stale."

They don't, but he can't risk you not eating them.

"Guess I'll have to finish them all today. What a sacrifice," you reply ironically flashing a smile at him.

He chuckles at your jokes, trying his best to mimick genuine amusement.

"What an awful way to indulge."

"Did you make them from scratch?"

"Oh, of course" he lies. "They're my late grandma's recipe."

He never even met his grandmother or grandparents. He was given up to adoption at an early age. He lies to add a personal taste; he hopes he can win you over a little with a family-friendly detail.

And he does.

"Aw, that's sweet," you swoon. "Did you learn how to cook with her?"

"She taught me enough to get me by."

"Well, she taught you well. Those cookies were delicious."

Yes, you are. The best thing I've ever tasted, he thinks to himself.

"She taught me how to make a wonderful chocolate cake as well. I'd love to make it for you sometime," he beams at all the possible opportunities that flash through his mind.

"Yeah, I'd love that! I love chocolate cake. But you gotta let me make you something too," you reply feeling a little too spoiled.

"You don't have to do that. I love baking," he hasn't the slightest clue how to make a cake from scratch. Thank God for box mix, though.

"Well, I wouldn't feel so bad about accepting all your treats. Why don't you at least let me take you out then? My treat."

"Are you asking me out?" he smirks locking his eyes on you.

"I might be. Doesn't have to be a date if you don't want to."

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he catches your not-so-subtle invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love that. And I appreciate a woman that isn't afraid to take the initiative."

You smile brightly feeling like you just took a step in the right direction.

"I'm free tonight if you are? I know a great place that serves authentic Mexican food."

"Sounds great to me. How about tonight at 8?"

"Perfect, sweetheart" he grins.

His idea to win you over is actually working, all according to plan.

#louis bloom #louis bloom x you #louis bloom x reader #louis bloom x y/n #lou bloom #lou bloom x you #lou bloom x reader #lou bloom x y/n #nightcrawler #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal smut

[rromanroy]

nightcrawler (2014) dir. dan gilroy.

#filmedit #movieedit #jgyllenhaaledit #lou bloom #movies #nightcrawler #nightcrawleredit #jake gyllenhaal #myshit #need this for me myself and i

[goodfcknomen]

just watched nightcrawler someone tell me why does he looks like a fnaf plushie

#jake gyllenhaal #nightcrawler #louis bloom #lou bloom

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Predator and Prey: Chapter Four

Pairing: Tommy Cahill x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors do not interact, Slow Burn, War Inaccuracies, Swearing, Mention of PTSD but barely, Stalking, Abuse, Sexual Themes, Alcohol & Drugs, I think that’s it?

Summary: You reach breaking point as you realise someone has been inside your home. Tommy protects you.

- Chapter Three Here -

———————————

The next week went well, with you and Tommy hanging out at every chance you got.

He would meet you at the book store most days and even helped out with straightening the shelves, or helping customers find books they were after. Most of the locals were less than pleased to see Tommy at first, but after a while they began to change their opinion of him, seeing a lighter side to Tommy they hadn’t seen before.

On Wednesday you and Tommy worked in the soup kitchen again, where you accidentally let slip that your home was broken into, and the next day Tommy took you to the tech store to pick out some security cameras. He walked you home to make sure you arrived safely, as it had began to get dark by the time you’d left the store.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to install those for you?” Tommy asked again, walking with his hands in his jeans pocket to keep them from freezing.

“Nah it’s ok, I think I can manage. Plus you’ve done enough work for me at the store, I think if I make you do anymore I’d need to put you on the payroll.” You joked, shivering under your beanie.

Tommy laughed, “You know I’m doing it because we’re friends right?”

You smiled up at him, “Yeah I know. I appreciate everything you’re doing. It’s nice to finally have someone to talk to.”

Tommy grinned from ear to ear and playfully ruffled your beanie, causing this to mess up your hair underneath.

“Hey!” You giggled, jabbing his arm with a light punch, causing him to clutch his arm in mock pain.

You were both too busy laughing to notice the footsteps following not too far behind, the shadow slinking in between trees and behind bushes as it followed.

Tommy hugged you goodnight when you were safely at your front door, stopping just before he walked out of sight to make sure you were safely inside. He made his way by foot back to his apartment on the outskirts of town.

It wasn’t a particularly long walk, but the cold was getting to him and he just kept thinking of the hot shower that awaited him when he got home.

About halfway back, Tommy realised he still had the bag containing your security cameras that he had offered to carry. Cursing himself for not realising, Tommy breathed into his hands to warm them up and turned back around.

You walked through your front door and locked it, before being greeted by Jet like he had been starved of human attention for days.

“You drama queen.” You said, giving him a big fuss. “I bet you want some dinner now huh? Ok let’s go see what’s on the menu tonight.”

You walked into the kitchen and got Jets dog food out, preparing it for him before laying it on the floor. When you stood back up you noticed a new letter on your counter top… You didn’t remember bringing in any new mail, but thought if you could forget to close a window you could probably have forgotten that you’d brought the mail in.

Flipping the letter over you noticed it didn’t have an address on the front and wondered how it could have been delivered that way. Carefully, you tore the letter open and read the contents, which turned you stone cold;

“Hi (Y/N),

I like what you’ve done with the place, did you paint the walls yourself? You always did love blue.

Jet’s gotten big, but he still remembers me. We enjoyed a bit of catching up while we waited for you to get home.

Say, is the guy who walks you home sometimes your new boyfriend? I sure hope not. I think you know full well that you’re meant to be with me, after all, He chose us together.

I still can’t go to Him without you, and he’s getting impatient. I might have to start really trying to persuade you soon.

Love,

Jason.”

You dropped the letter and your eyes darted around the small kitchen. You couldn’t see any evidence of him being in here, no open window or smashed windowsill pots and jars. Jet was still happily eating his dinner, tail wagging without a worry in the world, but your heart was in your throat as you slowly walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there, and again you were left with checking the dark hallway, bedroom and bathroom, but you couldn’t make your legs move.

Slowly, one step at a time, you forced yourself to move as quietly as you could down the dark hallway, too scared to turn any of the lights on in case you alerted whoever was hiding in the shadows.

You could hear your pulse, as your heart thudded against your ribcage. Slowly, you pushed your bedroom door, edging it open as carefully as you could….

Knock knock knock!

You jumped when three sharp knocks resounded against your front door. Swinging around, you ran to the front door, terrified the knocking had alerted whoever was in the house, you knew it was Jason but you refused to acknowledge it out loud, and that they’d come running out of the bedroom and pull you into the darkness.

You threw open the front door in tears, and grabbed Tommy by the jacket before pulling him inside and shutting the door.

“(Y/N), what-“

“Tommy! T-Tommy he’s here! He’s in the house!” You sobbed, running to the kitchen to grab the note.

Tommy’s eyes were wide with confusion as he followed you to the kitchen, putting the bag of security cameras on the counter top.

“L-look! See, I got home and this, this, was already here, on the counter. I didn’t bring it in and- and it had no address on it so he must be inside.” You cried, your body shaking all over.

Tommy read the note quickly, and looked at your inconsolable face.

“Stay here.” He instructed firmly, quickly looking around and grabbing a closed bottle of white wine you had on the side.

Tommy left the kitchen and made his way down the dark hallway, flicking the light switches on as he went, bottle in hand and ready to strike. He pushed open your bedroom door hard, sending the door crashing against the wall, the light from the hallway illuminating most of your bedroom while he found the switch. He walked in slowly, peeking around the chest of drawers next to your bedroom door, and inside the wardrobe. Nothing.

He then made his way to the only other room in the house, the bathroom, and it was obvious right away that no one was there.

After double checking the bedroom, Tommy made his way back to the kitchen, where you stood against the back counter, shaking and waiting for him to come back, hopefully in one piece.

He put the bottle of wine back down, and walked over to you, pulling you in for a hug. You buried your face into his chest and tried to control your breathing as he ran his hand up and down your back in attempts to calm you down.

“He must have let himself out.” Tommy sighed, “You should call the cops again, (Y/N).”

“That means he’s been letting himself inside the house. How is he getting in without breaking and entering?” You sniffled, looking up at Tommy with watery eyes.

Your faces were close enough to feel each others breaths, but now was not the time, so Tommy rested his chin on the top of your head and continued to rub circles into your back until your breathing calmed.

You decided not to call the police again, as all you had to go by was the note. There was no evidence of a break in and you had thrown away the first note he had sent you years ago, so you couldn’t even prove this was a recurring thing. You wanted the cops to believe you if there was a real incident at hand, so opted not to get on their bad side by calling them out for something so small.

But it wasn’t small to you, you were terrified. You thought you had finally rid yourself of him, but he had obviously found you and decided he wouldn’t let you go a second time.

Tommy stayed with you that night, and he slept on the couch after helping you set up the security cameras. One in the living room, facing the front door and couch. A second in the hallway capturing the bedroom and bathroom doors. And the third in the kitchen.

You felt that covered all places he might be getting in and out, or you hoped.

You struggled to get any sleep that night, despite knowing Tommy was out there, every noise and creek sounded louder than anything you’d heard in that house in the three years since you’d moved in, and around 2am you had decided to get up to get a glass of water.

You crept quietly past the living room where Tommy slept and into the kitchen, quietly pouring a glass of water, before walking back to your bedroom, failing to notice the face that peered in through the window of the living room.

————————————

- Chapter Five Here -

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[ghostsarereal]

only hot girls are in love with jake gyllenhaal

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