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neowinestainedress · 7 months

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𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask.

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody.

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro.

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside.

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver.

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever.

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him.

What’s on the other side is worse.

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture.

“Surpriiise!!”

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting.

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck.

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.”

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh.

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?”

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.”

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?”

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt.

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle.

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.”

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed.

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.”

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin.

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on.

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up.

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead.

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.”

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose.

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.”

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.”

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens.

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.”

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.”

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.”

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?”

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.”

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be.

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.

“Why?”

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour.

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?”

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?”

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat.

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?”

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.”

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction.

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away.

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?”

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought.

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?”

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow.

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.”

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you.

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.”

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself?

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?”

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again.

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department.

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans.

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?”

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?”

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.”

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.”

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.”

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop.

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.”

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle.

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?”

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again.

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?”

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?”

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not.

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.”

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again.

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair.

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.

You gulp and automatically close your legs.

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.”

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —”

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest.

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.”

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating.

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.”

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.”

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?”

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right?

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.”

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be.

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.”

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving.

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass.

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette.

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down.

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?”

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?”

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.”

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.”

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.”

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.”

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.”

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?”

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.”

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.”

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward.

“We didn’t kill anybody there.”

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?”

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?”

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you.

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.”

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down.

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask.

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly.

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to.

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.”

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie.

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.”

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.”

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.”

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky.

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip.

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you.

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.”

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones.

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.”

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly.

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?”

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ”

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person.

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?”

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds.

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.”

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment.

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.”

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.”

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done.

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.”

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly.

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?”

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess.

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words.

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.”

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity.

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?”

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?”

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.”

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again.

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin.

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust.

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair.

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs.

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly.

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it.

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?”

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation.

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?”

“No,” you mumble.

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly.

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?”

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.”

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.”

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.”

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it.

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.”

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans.

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?”

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?”

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now.

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.”

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe.

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven.

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.”

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should.

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place.

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.”

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet.

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.”

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note.

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ”

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justwritedreams · 7 months

Text

Surviving The Game | Mark Lee

Idol Mark x Investigator Reader

Word count: 11.368 Genre: Drama, angst, action. Author: maari Warnings: Mentions of stalking, guns and very sensitive topics with a happy ending bc you know me Note: I think I need to make it clear that this has nothing to do with yandere and personally I don't agree with stalker attitudes or anything like that. If you are going through this in real life, don't be silent, this is not normal. Btw this it’s just a fiction so don't come after me. Summary: An sasaeng turns Mark's life a nightmare and the only solution it's bring the police into this case. And it's your job to make him feel safe again.

⪢ NCT Masterlist

“To be more than a conqueror You have to learn to enjoy the pain If you want to survive the game” “Y/N, come with me, please.”

“Of course, boss.” Y/N stood up from her chair, ready to grab her vest.

“Without the vest.” the boss warned and she looked at him confused but left her protection behind.

She walked beside him anxiously, waiting for him to say something but it didn't happen until they were in the car. No vests, no flashy vehicles. Like normal people.

"Where are we going?" she asked as soon as the boss started the car.

“Visiting a victim." Y/N frowned, she had never done this type of work. Noticing her confusion, the boss decided to explain. “It's a delicate and completely confidential case, it involves a large company that wants a silent investigation.”

She knew how to keep a secret but the anxiety of knowing what it was all about was eating her alive.

"Understood." she replied and silence returned to them both until they reached their destination.

Y/N wanted to know more about the details but she knew that the boss wouldn't talk about the case on the street or while they were going up the elevator, after identifying themselves to the doorman. She was attentive to everything and when they arrived on the floor, they didn't have to wait long after the boss rang the bell.

A man probably the boss's age, if not younger, answered the door and bowed as he faced the boss.

"Detective." the man greeted him and the boss bowed in the same way, entering shortly afterwards.

Y/N did the same and noticed that the man was worried, she walked in behind the boss and felt several pairs of eyes staring at her.

She didn't usually get nervous, she liked to investigate and was one of the reasons why she joined the police but she confessed that now it was different. She didn't expect four extremely handsome young men to be in the room, staring intently at her and the boss.

She was used to police officers of all ages, so she was struck by the beauty of mere civilians. She had never seen so many handsome men since University.

The four of them got up from the couch and bowed, they seemed more anxious and nervous than Y/N, and she tried not to show how affected she was by the looks.

“Detective, this is Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny and Mark.” the oldest introduced, indicating who was who and Y/N took a good look at the boys.

But the last one caught her attention.

He appeared to be the youngest and was visibly shaken, huge black dots under his eyes that were shaking constantly, but beneath his pale, worried face, he carried an innocent, almost childlike look. Although he wasn't that much younger than Y/N.

“Detective Kim, this is my partner Y/N.” the boss announced and all eyes stopped on her.

Y/N smiled slightly, holding her gaze for longer with Mark, who quickly lowered his gaze.

“Very well, tell us from the beginning what happened.” the boss asked and the oldest signaled for everyone to sit down.

Y/N and the boss sat across from the four young boys who looked at Mark before starting.

“We were returning from a recording that lasted all day, when we got out of the car a woman approached us, she wanted to talk to Mark.” Y/N's eyes met Mark's and he looked embarrassed, the boss pointed for her to write down what Taeyong was saying and she took her phone out of her pocket. “At first we thought she was a random fan who had just passed by on the street and saw us getting down, but after we entered, the doorman announced that the woman had not left the sidewalk.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side when she heard the word fan. Were they famous? Why hadn't the boss warned her about this?

“She stood still for a long time, looking at the building trying to find our floor.” Yuta continued.

“That’s when she started screaming.” Mark spoke quietly and Y/N stopped taking notes to look at him, his small voice made her feel sorry for him.

It was clear that this had affected him in a bad way, it was actually sad.

“We spoke to our manager.” Johnny pointed to the older man who was standing next to them with his arms crossed. “And we didn’t do anything but record it for proof.”

“What was she shouting?” Y/N asked and they looked at Mark, who shook his head and looked down.

"Nonsenses. That Mark couldn’t go without talking to his girlfriend, that it wasn’t right to leave her outside in the cold.” Tayeong spoke and it was at that moment that everyone had the same expression, anger.

Y/N tried to contain her grimace and went back to taking notes.

Reminder: the girl was crazy.

“But the next day she was in the same place we were and the next day too, and now she’s going to where we are.” Yuta showed the discomfort he felt and it seemed like he wasn't the only one.

“It even seems like she knows our schedule better than our own manager.” Johnny commented.

“How long has this been going on?” the boss asked.

"3 weeks?" Taeyong asked Mark and he just nodded, while stared into nothing.

Now Y/N could understand the case.

It made perfect sense for the police to go to their house in disguise, if the idols went to the police station or if they knew that a detective had gone there, it would attract a lot of attention.

From the media, from the fans, from who knows how many stalkers they had. It would be detrimental to the case.

“And when did the messages start?” the boss asked and Y/N looked at him.

Messages?

“A few days before she showed up.” Mark responded and put his hands together, stirring constantly.

“Can you show us?” the boss asked and Mark agreed, taking his phone out of his pocket and moving it around until he found what he was looking for, he handed it to the boss and as Y/N was closer, she held the phone.

The boss approached to read it and Y/N's eyes widened at the amount.

The number was already blocked, but on the same day Mark had received 52 messages.

‘I know where you are’

‘Why don’t you come out and talk?’

‘I see your face in the window’

‘Are you looking for me?’

'You are so cute'

There were some of them, Y/N noticed that the girl was really watching Mark closely and every second as she told him exactly what he was doing.

Psychopath, she thought.

Y/N looked at Mark once again. He was sad, dejected and tired, she could see that. It was clear as water.

Cases about stalkers were not rare, but she had never been at the forefront of the investigations. But now, knowing the story, she could only feel anger and disgust.

How could someone who claimed to be a fan do that?

“Have you ever thought about carrying armed security guards?” she asked and that caught everyone by surprise.

The boys looked at each other, looking for an answer while the manager scratched his head.

“It wouldn’t be fair to the fans.” Mark replied and for the first time held Y/N’s gaze.

She didn't want to notice how welcoming yet sad his brown eyes were, but she did.

“And is it fair to you?” she returned the question.

Okay, she understood the fame part but she couldn't understand why their safety didn't come first, especially since that girl was a perfect sasaeng.

They were obsessed and would stop at nothing. Someone needed to set limits.

“The company thinks it is more prudent for the police to investigate first and then we will see what can be done.” the manager said and Y/N wanted to snort.

She knew what to do, locking the crazy woman in a mental hospital was the solution.

“That’s what we’re here for.” the boss assured, resting his hand on Y/N's shoulder who was still looking at Mark. “We will do whatever is necessary.”

Y/N and the boss talked a little more with the boys so they could have something to start, as well as writing down the numbers the stalker was using to send messages to Mark.

Yes, numbers.

She was pushy, in Y/N's words she was annoying.

As soon as they left, after a long conversation that Mark apparently didn't want to have, they returned to the car with a plan in mind.

Well, Y/N had a rather radical plan.

“You know we’re going to have to check his phone, right?” Y/N asked her boss as soon as they left the street of the building. “The girl probably hacked it, based on her history.”

“I didn’t want to say that at first and scare him.”

She laughed, humorless.

“Boss, the guy is already scared!”

"I know. What did you find of her?” he asked and Y/N slid the file onto her phone.

After looking up her history in every database the police had access to, she found some interesting things.

“She was adopted when she was 6 years old. Her academic record is not the best, she went through several schools in a very short period, she must not have had time to create a bond with someone, her teachers made some notes over the years about her being quiet, introverted and extremely inattentive because she was too busy kissing posters of actors and singers.” Y/N saw the boss staring at her with a disbelieving look. "What? It’s written here!”

The boss laughed, nodding his head.

“I know what you think about stalkers.”

“That they are unbalanced people who deserve to spend the rest of their lives in a psychiatric clinic, am I wrong?”

“No, but it’s not right either.” the boss pondered, searching for the best words. “Cases like this involve a lot more than it seems, Y/N.”

"What does that mean?"

“I mean, you need to see beyond your outrage about this issue. Or do you think I didn’t realize you got mad when they started talking about the messages?” Y/N was silent. “You will be a good detective in the future and that is why I have an obligation to train you until then, I want you to be the best, but for that you will need to act more with reason than with emotion.”

[...]

Although the detective was in charge of the case, it was Y/N who was solving everything, especially because the boss was busier than usual. So he confided in her everything he said about this specific case.

That was why Y/N had gone to the group's dorm again, now she knew about Mark's professional life and how the group was famous, it made sense why stalkers showed up thinking they knew the boys closely.

However, a face that Y/N hadn't seen yet answered the door in confusion, so she held up her badge.

"Goodnight. Investigator Y/N, is Mark here?” she asked subtly and he nodded, giving her space to enter.

“Milk!” he shouted and even though she didn't know anything about him, she could tell that he must be one of the group's vocalists, by his powerful voice.

It was time for him to close the door and turn to face her, Mark appeared running and visibly tired, it was no wonder after all at that time of night they should have been sleeping due to their busy schedule.

“Officer, good night!” he greeted her and looked at her expectantly.

“How are you, Mark?”

"Good." she didn't believe the answer, not after the sad eyes gave it away. Y/N would have continued to hold his gaze if the boy who opened the door hadn't interrupted the brief moment. “This is Haechan, I guess you guys didn’t meet last week, did you?” he introduced and the boy smiled at Y/N.

"Pleasure."

"Equally!" he replied happily and the room fell into an awkward silence.

"Well, I'm sorry to come unannounced but I came to update you on the investigation." Y/N spoke and Mark moved in front of Haechan, pointing to the sofa.

"Please sit down."

She did so, taking off the backpack she was carrying on her back and placing it on her lap.

"First of all, your phone, where is it?"

Mark looked confused at Haechan who was on the same page, he pointed to one of the rooms.

"Charging, why?" He asked, curious.

"I'm going to need a favor. Two in fact." she saw Mark nod and then continued. "Bring your phone over here and cover all the cameras, you two will have to be silent at all time."

Mark looked complicit at Haechan who felt the investigator's eyes switch between him and Mark. The two agreed.

"Why?" Mark asked and saw her become reluctant.

"I need to make sure that what I suspect is happening." She explained without giving many details and received a shy ok from Mark, who got up and went to get his phone.

A few minutes later, while Haechan was silent and looked like he was going to explode, Mark returned. Y/N noticed that he had turned the phone's cover over and the rear cameras were covered, while the front was covered by a Band aid.

Creative, she thought.

Mark handed the phone to Y/N who quickly took the notebook out of her backpack and turned it on, Haechan approached Mark and the two remained standing next to the investigator while she worked tirelessly on the keyboard, concentrated enough to get Mark's attention .

He shouldn't have noticed her face so much, the way her lips held a firm line as she pressed them together, but he did.

In an absurd and boring silence, as Haechan thought, minutes passed until her expression changed.

From concentration to anger.

Y/N quickly turned off Mark's phone and got up from the couch almost at the same time.

"Officer…?" Mark caught her attention, and she looked at him seriously.

"What I thought was right." Mark looked at her expectantly, ready to understand what she meant but it wasn't that easy. She didn't want to be insensitive, so she took a deep breath before speaking. "She hacked your phone, she had access to any and all of your personal information."

Y/N saw Mark react in a common way, complete astonishment and despair. But even though it was normal, she hated seeing the vulnerability in him.

"How? When?" he asked, astonished.

"It is possible?" Haechan questioned, worried about his friend. Mark was whiter than usual, he looked like he was going to faint.

Y/N nodded and placed her hands on her hips.

"Unfortunately, yes. Did you leave your phone somewhere or access any unusual links?"

Mark reached deep into his memory.

"No, I don't access links that easily and I don't take my eyes off my phone. Well, only on the plane when I'm sleeping."

Y/N felt like a click appeared in her head.

So that was it.

"But she would never have access to my flight." He laughed in disbelief and saw Y/N look at him not so confidently. "Right?"

She sighed.

“Are you sure you never saw her before that night?” Y/N crossed her arms.

She had to have left some clue, everyone always did.

"Never!" Mark responded promptly and looked at his friend who was holding his hand to his face and staring into space, thoughtfully.

“Thinking back, I recognized her from somewhere. I remember seeing that face behind the scenes of our recordings.” Haechan replied, leaving Y/N on alert.

“You didn't tell me that before.” Mark accused and Haechan shrugged.

“I wasn't sure, but now that the police officer said it, it makes sense to me. She kept looking in our direction.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her blood boil. With the case, she had analyzed other reports of sasaengs and the rumors she had heard about agencies allowing them to infiltrate artists' agendas because they had money was disturbing and revolting.

However, this theory seemed to make more sense than before.

"What do I do?" Mark asked, visibly desperate and Y/N raised her hand to rest on his shoulder but stopped in her tracks.

It would be too inappropriate.

That's why she put her hair behind her ear instead of physically comforting the boy.

"I suggest you buy another phone and don't answer any suspicious calls from an unknown number, always keep your phone in your front pocket."

Mark sighed, he looked so tired that Y/N sympathized with his suffering, it was the final reason she needed to speak with determination.

"She'll pay for this, I promise you."

[...]

Y/N closed the soaked umbrella while banging her fist against the door, that routine was becoming normal and she felt a mix of sensations run through her body waiting for the door to be opened.

She smiled slightly when she saw Mark's clean, confused face and his messy hair, but when she looked down at his bare torso, shock took over her body, she blinked a few times and her jaw dropped as she tried to find some words to say but there was nothing.

Y/N didn't want to notice the way that, even though he was so thin, Mark had a defined body. Well defined. It wasn't surprising, after all he was also a dancer, but she couldn't control her body to contain her stuttered speech.

“Ah shit, sorry!” she heard Mark speak after looking at his own body, finding himself only in his sweatpants while the guitar was in his other hand, Y/N looked at his face and saw that his cheeks took on a pink tone.

“It is…” Y/N cleared her throat as her voice came out weak. "It’s ok."

It was more than fine, she thought.

"Please come in." Mark gave her space and Y/N did so, moving next to Mark's hot body who looked anywhere but at her face. She left her shoes at the door, along with her umbrella. “I'm just going to…” he pointed to his body and she nodded frantically, still not knowing what to say, and followed him to the living room.

Mark practically ran with the guitar in his hand and Y/N put her lips together in a thin line as she watched Mark's back but when her eyes went to the waistband of his pants, she turned her head and with her eyes widened in surprise by the thoughts not at all pure that invaded her head, she lightly slapped her own cheek as if she managed to expel the thoughts.

Put yourself together, she thought.

“Sorry, I have this habit of playing the guitar like that.” she took a deep breath before turning to face Mark again, she was disappointed to see him without his guitar and in his gray hooded sweatshirt but she tried not to show it, the boy was embarrassed enough.

She didn't want to make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was.

“Don’t apologize, please. It’s me who should apologize for coming unannounced, again.”

Mark shook his head and smiled, crossing his arms.

“Apparently you have some more news about the case.” Mark tried to sound subtle but Y/N could find the anxiety in his voice, that was why she took a deep breath feeling her stomach churn with anxiety so she decided to be direct.

"We have the mandate ready." Mark smiled hopefully and was ready to say something when she interrupted him. "But the prosecution knew about your case in advance."

"And?" Mark asked, confused, his frown made him look cute.

"And they want to use this as an example to pressure Congress to pass stronger laws against stalkers."

Mark looked down, the gears in his brain seeming to grind slowly.

"Use as an example?" He questioned and she nodded. "A public trial. Is that it?"

Y/N bit her lip when she saw Mark's very serious expression.

"Yes. The prosecutor believes that with public opinion, especially international opinion, congress will have great motivation for stalkers to be treated as-"

"Wait, officer." Mark interrupted her, raising his hand. "I'm a layman on the subject but this means I'll have to testify in front of the jury. In person."

Y/N scratched the back of her head, feeling her heart sink when she saw Mark's pained expression.

"Yes, Mark. Your testimony at the trial is the main key, just testifying to the police is not enough to convict, it also needs to be in court."

Mark laughed in disbelief and ran his hand over his face, and then through his hair where he ruffled it hard.

He was visibly upset, Y/N understood the reasons but it was the only way to end it.

"Is not fair." he spoke and kept his gaze fixed on Y/N, who felt her shoulders sag.

It was true but he had no choice.

The investigations were practically over, she had nothing else to do.

Now it was with the prosecutor's office.

Mark shook his head and walked past Y/N who just followed him with her gaze, watching him go to the front door angrily, looking for some sneakers.

"Where are you going?" Y/N asked when she saw him put on the pair but had no answer, as Mark opened the door in the next second and walked out of the dorm in long strides.

Y/N ran to put on her shoes and follow Mark, finding him at the end of the hallway.

"Mark!" She called out to him but all she got was silence, which made her run after him again.

He walked out of the dorm and didn't even care about the rain outside as he took long steps down the street, Y/N didn't think about anything other than following him.

"Mark, wait!" She spoke loudly because the heavy rain had already soaked Mark's body and hers, her heavy hair fell in front of her face. "Hey!" she hurried and grabbed his arm, putting all the strength she had into making him stop.

Mark did it, suddenly, and Y/N almost ran into his body for it but she wished she hadn't because now she was staring into Mark's red eyes.

He looked broken inside and out, even in the heavy rain you could see the tears. Y/N felt an uncontrollable urge to protect him.

"What?" he shouted, making her fall silent.

She didn't know what to say, she just wanted to hug him tight enough to ease that suffering.

"I just…" he reluctantly and Y/N kept her eyes fixed on his, encouraging him to continue. "I just wanted, once, just once, to have a normal life like everyone else."

"And what would you do if you were a normal person?" she questioned and saw Mark look intensely into her eyes until he moved down to her mouth.

Y/N didn't have time for any more questions, she just saw Mark approach her in a blur, grab both sides of her face tightly and pull her towards him, their mouths colliding in an almost desperate way.

She widened her eyes when Mark's cold, wet lips took hers, letting a sound of surprise be muffled by the kiss, but Mark's palms covering her skin and his face so close to hers was enough for Y/N to give in to the brief desire at that moment.

She closed her eyes and her hands found Mark's shoulder, feeling her whole body light up with the way his lips moved between hers, tilting her head the kiss became deeper and was the perfect excuse for Mark's tongue seeks hers, bringing his chest closer to hers, their bodies emanating a heat that not even the cold rain was able to stifle.

Y/N sighed when her tongue began to dance in the same fast rhythm as Mark's and she felt his hand hold the back of her neck firmly, sending shivers throughout her body.

The rain, although it made the kiss much wetter and with more saliva than normal, seemed to wash away any kind of insecurity or fear on both sides.

Y/N didn't restrict herself from feeling everything she wanted. She had been attracted to Mark since the first day, and even though her rational side screamed that it was dangerous, she couldn't control the way her heart warmed much more than her body that was touched by him. She felt a peace, a strong connection that she had never felt before.

And Mark, he finally managed to put all his problems aside, it was like he was in another world. One in which Y/N wasn't the police officer who was just there to investigate the case, it went much further. He felt safe and normal.

When they separated, breathing heavy and missing from their lungs, they faced each other once more. Without saying anything, Mark just caressed Y/N's cheek that he was holding and watched her, her lips swollen and red, parted and beautiful.

Y/N kept her hands on Mark's shoulder and lost herself in the current of his eyes, as if it were a black hole that was pulling her. That day, she had promised that she would protect him from everything.

Even if she had to with her own life.

[...]

Y/N sneezed once again as she entered the police station, receiving a greeting from one of her colleagues in which she responded with just one hand.

The headache, the runny nose, the lack of sleep, and being woken up late had everything to do with last night, but none of that mattered to the boss when he saw her.

"You come with me." he pointed at her and continued walking outside the district, she just took a deep breath and turned around, following the detective to the parking lot.

When they got into the car, she dropped her suitcase at her feet and sneezed again.

"Shit." she complained, closing her eyes for a while.

“Did you catch the rain yesterday?” the boss asked and she opened her eyes instantly.

She didn't want to be so suspicious, she hadn't even been able to digest what had happened last night, so she just nodded as she put on the seat belt.

“I told you to use your umbrella.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes theatrically.

"Thank you, dad." the detective laughed at the sarcastic tone, before throwing the tablet that Y/N only noticed he was holding at that moment onto her lap and starting the car.

If it were any other police officer, would never talk with the detective like that. But Y/N was intimate enough for that, and sometimes he acted like he was her father.

"What is that?" she asked, holding up the tablet.

“Unlock the screen and you’ll know where we’re going.” he warned, without taking his attention off the streets and Y/N did as he said.

When she read the title of the article, she felt her blood run cold.

“Lee Mark accused of drugging and abusing minor”

Y/N swallowed hard and wrinkled her nose as she read the article quickly, closing the fists of her other hand so hard that her nails dug into her skin but she didn't care about the pain.

That article was even worse.

And the worst part, it was all a lie. False.

The alleged victim’s “statement” on a social network was too clear for her, in addition to not making any sense, it had only one objective.

“It was the stalker.” she spoke through gritted teeth, trying to control her breathing.

She had no doubts. There was no one other than her who could lie about something so serious.

“I asked intelligence to track the account, of course, she already deleted everything.”

Y/N laughed humorlessly.

“Obviously, her goal was to just throw shit at the media.” she replied angrily.

“And she did, the phone was the same one you identified as the one that had access to Mark’s.”

Great, more evidence against her.

“Can we arrest her now?” Y/N looked at the boss who had a serious expression.

“No, this morning the phone was found.” he glanced at Y/N and took a deep breath before continuing. “On the Han River. I sent a car to her house and the doorman said she hadn’t been there for two days.”

Y/N glared angrily at her boss. It wasn't with him but with the stalker, she wasn't enjoying that Tom and Jerry game.

They should have arrested her last night.

“She knows we’re after her.” she concluded.

“If your theory that she infiltrates the group’s staff is right, then yes.”

“Boss, a lie cannot be proven.” she said, indignantly.

“No, but a true can. That’s what we have to do.” he reminded her and Y/N took a deep breath, looking back at the street.

Anxiety took over her body when she realized that they were close to the company building, very different from the path to Mark's dorm that she was used to, but all she could think about was the boy.

He must have been desperate, much more than yesterday.

Although she should be thinking about her work, it was difficult to control the shiver as she remembered last night and the kiss.

That line was dangerous but it felt so right, Y/N didn't regret kissing Mark because it had only incited the fire of justice within her even more. She needed to help him more than ever, protect him in any way.

“Will SM let the police in through the front door?” Y/N asked as soon as they got out of the car and the boss nodded.

“You can’t even imagine how desperate they are to solve this case.”

Ah, she could actually imagine it.

They entered the building, just showing their badge and entry was authorized, they went to the elevator towards the meeting room where one of the employees had informed them that they would be waiting for them both.

The boss knocked on the door and someone spoke loudly for them to come in, Y/N felt her hands sweat as she entered the room and her eyes searched Mark's, finding him sitting in one of the chairs.

He seemed surprised to see her there but held her gaze, making her heart skip a beat in her chest and memories of last night flooded her head. She could still feel the texture of Mark's lips and the taste of him.

However, she blinked several times when the company's CEO suggested that they sit down, she followed the boss and ended up sitting facing Mark who couldn't take his eyes off her.

She then discovered that in addition to the CEO, SM's lawyer and Mark's lawyer were there, as well as the head of the public relations department.

The meeting had a single objective, to find a way out of that maze.

And Y/N observed everything quietly, listening to the discussions about how they would deal with that without tarnishing the company's image, something that made her raise her eyebrow.

Mark's image should be a priority, or rather, his safety.

She looked back at Mark, he looked not only bothered but irritated too, he kept rubbing his hands while fixing his eyes on a random spot on the table.

“If Mark is sued, we won’t be able to continue with the contract-”

Y/N rolled her eyes surreptitiously. But there was no way she could be listening to that.

"Excuse me." she interrupted, raising her hand and got everyone's attention. “I have an idea, we can set a trap for the girl.”

Y/N's boss looked at her curiously.

"What did you think?"

“It's clear that she is doing everything she can to ruin Mark's life, and I think everyone is aware of that. But you can hush up the case of the false report made on social media.”

"As?" Mark's lawyer asked.

“Release an official note, say Mark has an alibi.” she looked glancing at Mark who had his eyes narrowed at her, trying to follow her reasoning.

“This won’t help without proof.” the head of the public relations department said and she shook her head.

“It will if you say he was with his girlfriend.” she replied with conviction and saw everyone's eyes widen.

"What?"

“But that’s a lie.” Mark spoke a little louder and Y/N looked at him. "I don't have a girlfriend."

She suppressed her smile, she didn't know why but she was happy to hear that from him.

The situation between them would have been much more dangerous if they had kissed while he had a girlfriend...

“Do you want us to defend ourselves from an exposure like this, exposing ourselves even more?” The CEO asked and she nodded.

“Listen to me, if you confirm that Mark is in a relationship and that you hid it to protect his image, in addition to you coming out of this situation as sensible, this will attract the stalker.”

“She’s right.” Y/N's boss agreed, drawing everyone's attention to himself. “The girl has been missing for two days, no one knows where she is. If she believes Mark has a girlfriend, she will come running back to find out who the girl is.”

Everyone was silent, pondering.

“And then, we took action. We take her to jail and the prosecution does its part.”

Y/N looked at everyone's faces, trying to make her confidence convince everyone that the plan was ideal.

They needed to attract the stalker somehow and she couldn't imagine a better scenario than if she believed that Mark already had someone, the girl would change the focus of the threats to the supposed girlfriend.

She faced Mark last, he didn't seem so comfortable with her suggestion but she managed to see something in his eyes that she hadn't seen before.

Hope.

[...]

Y/N wanted to hit herself, she stared at the wall with focus thinking about how she could hit her head without passing out.

Watching Mark after the dating scandal came out to ensure his integrity and watching the stalker appear was perfect.

She had the perfect idea.

Mainly because Mark had been removed from his activities for a few days, the official statement said it was for personal reasons, but Y/N knew that it was all part of the plan to catch the stalker in the act and increase her sentence.

A great idea that the boss had approved.

As long as Y/N kept Mark safe, that she escorted him, and she watched him all night.

Spending all her time outside his apartment doing what exactly? Thinking about the kiss they shared!

Even on duty, with the gun on her waist and her hand nearby in case of any eventuality, she couldn't stop thinking about his lips, no matter how hard she tried.

She didn't know if it was because she had a personal connection to the case and had just felt the need to protect Mark but that kiss moved her in a way that no other had.

It was more than affection.

Mark's sad eyes and the way he looked so small and defenseless in that situation made her feel the need to not only protect him, but also help him in some way.

And as wrong as it was, since she couldn't get involved with the victims, she wanted to do something for him besides work.

To make him feel better, even to vent to someone because she more than anyone knew what an extremely stressful situation it was.

Y/N turned her head and all her attention when she heard the door to his house open slowly, making the noise echo through the silent hallway, her palms were already sweaty before she even saw Mark's shy face.

His dark hair fell into his eyes that were looking for anywhere to look but her eyes.

"It's… um… good evening, officer." His voice came out so shy that she would have smiled if she didn't feel so embarrassed.

The air was tense between them, it was palpable.

"Good evening, Mark." she returned it with a wry smile. "Do you need something?"

"No." He shook his head incessantly, he seemed to search for the right words while holding the door. "Listen, are you going to be out there for too long?"

Y/N sighed, of course he was feeling uncomfortable.

"Until the patrol finds some movement around the perimeter." she explained.

That was the deal.

Mark took a deep breath and raised his eyes to look at her.

"You are not hungry?" The question caught Y/N off guard and she frowned, not understanding. "It's just that I made a lot of food…" he pointed inside his own apartment. "I forgot the members wouldn't be here." He smiled shyly, scratching the back of his head and she watched him carefully.

The police had been very specific, keeping Mark in the dorm was a necessity but they weren't going to put the other boys in danger.

So they all went to a hotel that night.

"I don’t want to bother." She was being sincere, although her stomach rejoiced at the invitation.

"No, no. It won't be uncomfortable." Mark replied promptly, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not against what was stipulated, you'll still watch me... just from inside."

Y/N pondered, a huge part of her saying to accept it soon but until she remembered that she was on duty, working to keep him safe.

Except, well, Mark wasn't wrong. He had a point.

"I don't know…"

"Please." Mark's eyes shone with guilt and she surrendered right then and there. "I feel responsible for you being out there alone when you could be somewhere you really wanted."

She felt offended but didn't take it personally, Mark didn't really know her so he didn't know that she was there of her own free will, it was her duty.

"Don't say that, I don't want you to feel that way." She took a step forward, her fingers itching to touch his shoulder, but stopped where she was. "It's not your fault, Mark, it never was!"

She spoke with conviction and he remained silent, only to nod his head shortly afterwards.

"I'll feel a lot better if you at least come in for a drink of water."

She suppressed a smile and Mark gave her space to enter, without hesitation she did so.

The house was much warmer than the hallway she was in before, she took off her boots at the door and walked in, hearing Mark close the door behind her and feeling him watching her.

"Do you want to eat? Seriously, I made a lot of food." He walked ahead and pointed to where Y/N imagined the kitchen to be, a clear invitation for her to go.

In silence she entered and saw that Mark had actually made a lot of food, enough for the whole night. Even though she was about to deny it, her stomach betrayed her and growled loudly the instant she saw the food.

It looked very delicious.

Although there was one thing missing.

"I know, the egg needs to be fried, right." He laughed softly and Y/N looked at him.

Had she been watching the food for so long?

"I’ll just eat it as is." She replied and Mark approached the stove.

"No, it's okay. I'll do it in a second." He offered and she smiled gratefully.

However, Y/N's smile faded when she saw that Mark looked more like he was about to plant a bomb than fry an egg.

Mark took what he needed a little confused, he muttered quietly to himself and she couldn't understand but she imagined it was the steps of the process.

When one hand was free, he scratched the back of his head and looked at the items on the kitchen counter, as if he wanted to ensure he had gotten everything needed.

This was taking a lot longer than a second.

"Mark." she called after him, stifling a laugh.

He looked at her, even more confused and a little shy.

"Yes?"

"Do you know how to fry eggs?" she crossed her arms and saw him frown.

"Yeah!" he responded promptly, scratching the back of his head again. "You just can't guarantee that it's edible."

Y/N put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh, he also laughed a little more shyly.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Y/N approached the stove as Mark opened and closed his mouth to retort, but she just raised her eyebrow and reached out to hold the spatula he was holding.

He ended up giving in willingly and their fingers ended up touching briefly, making them both look at each other at the same moment.

Mark walked away, shyly while Y/N cleared her throat trying not to show how much Mark's eyes affected her.

"Do you want a tip?" she asked, to dispel the disturbing silence and he nodded. "You need to get the oil hot before you add the egg."

Mark paid attention as she announced what she was going to do in a step-by-step that seemed much simpler than what he did.

She took the opportunity and made him an egg too, Mark helped put together the dish and they were quickly sitting on the stools ready to eat.

"Seeing you cook, it seemed easy to do." Mark pointed to the egg, laughing and she mirrored the same reaction.

Catching her attention a little on his wide and genuine smile.

"Because it's easy." She noticed and started to eat.

"For me it's much more complicated than it really is, officer." he replied, watching her expression as she ate.

"But you cook well." She spoke after chewing everything. "This is a feast compared to the hot dogs I eat on the street."

Mark frowned.

"Don't you eat real food when you work, officer?"

She looked at him. She didn't like it when Mark called her an officer often, it seemed like every time he said that word a rift grew between them.

"Define real food."

Mark laughed, he didn't need the answer because she had already said it.

They ate some more in silence, although she noticed Mark's uneasiness.

"Can I ask you a question, officer?" He spoke quietly.

"Y/N."

Mark looked at her confused.

"Huh?"

"Y/N. That's my name." He raised his eyebrows and she smiled slightly. "Instead of just officer."

Mark smirked.

"Y/N."

She had to control the huge smile she wanted to give, she had enjoyed hearing him say her name.

"Of course you can." She moved away from the plate, turning all her attention to him. "Go ahead"

Mark took a deep breath and looked at her deeply.

"Why did you become a police officer?"

She swallowed hard, she didn't imagine he would ask her that right away.

She tried to hide how much that question had weighed on her shoulders and frowned.

"And why did you become an idol?"

He shook his head, his eyes shining with stubbornness.

"I asked first." He remembered and she nodded, looking down at her hands that were in her lap.

"I know how you feel." She shifted on the stool and looked somewhere in the kitchen, avoiding Mark's eyes. "With this stalker thing. You're not the only one who has someone chasing you everywhere."

Y/N suddenly fell silent, her mind flooding with the memories she had forced herself to forget.

"Ex boyfriend?" Mark asked reluctantly.

Y/N looked at him again, smiling sadly.

"I wish it were." She shook her head and he looked even more confused. "I had a childhood friend, we were inseparable in kindergarten but I ended up having to change cities shortly after and lost contact. In elementary school, on a random day, she showed up at the same school, she had enrolled there. At first I thought it was great because I didn't know what had happened to her so I would be able to have that friendship again." She took a deep breath before continuing. "But I had grown up, met other people, had new friends... and she didn't seem to like it very much. She was jealous of all my friends, she said she liked the same guys as me. I started to think it was strange, but it was only in middle school that I started to feel weird around her. She did everything she could to be near me, all the time, as if… as if…"

"You had an intimacy that no one has ever had." Mark concluded and she nodded.

She laughed, sadly.

"Yeah, but it wasn't like that. She wasn't my best friend, the memory I had of her was very different, and her jealousy bothered me a lot so I tried to stay away."

"But it did not work." He guessed.

"Yes, it seemed that the more I moved away, the more she tried to be close to me. She even followed me home several times, sending me messages in the early hours of the morning wanting to question me because I had posted photos with my friends." she sighed. “She said I was the reason she self-harmed.”

Mark's jaw dropped and he watched her helpfully.

"She sent me sensitive photos of slit wrists every time and I always felt guilty. But the messages started to be more frequent and she started threatening me, threatening my family, saying that I had told her to kill herself , although it wasn't like that, I had just warned her and tried to help that if she continued doing that she would end up killing herself. I was so angry because I didn't think there was a reason for that. Until I had enough."

"How?" He crossed his arms and she then realized that Mark was really interested in the story, so she continued.

"I joined the police academy, I was always afraid that she would do something against my family so I thought I could protect them if I was a police officer. Then I decided to change cities, I wanted her focus to change, so she wouldn't need to focus on what to do against my family. I left all social media, I never showed up in the city again."

"And then?"

Y/N scratched her head, this was part she had never told anyone, not even her family. She then got up from the stool and crossed her arms, turning her back to Mark and heading into the living room.

He followed her, he was curious and also worried, but he felt relieved somehow. He had identified with her story.

"And then I ended up here." She opened her arms, turning to look at him. "I was feeling safe enough, until…"

Y/N looked down at the floor, running her hand over her forehead while Mark didn't take his eyes off her, a little reluctant.

"Until?" He urged her to continue but seeing that she was still silent, he took a step towards her.

"Until I was assigned to handle your case." She raised her gaze again to Mark's, seeing him change his expression to one of surprise. "I said I know how you feel because it's the truth. I understand the fear you're feeling."

Y/N saw Mark's eyes falter so she took a step forward, getting closer to him.

"I know it's desperate and that you will do everything to protect the ones you love because that's exactly what I'm doing." Mark looked away and, unable to contain himself, she brought her hand to his face, making him regain eye contact. "If the trial appears on TV, if it's public, she'll find me."

"So you think I shouldn't testify?" he asked quietly, his shoulders so shrugged that it gave him a very fragile image, one that Y/N didn't like.

She shook her head and moved closer to him, cupping the other side of Mark's face with her free hand.

"Quite the opposite. You need to testify." she spoke firmly and he stared at her lips. "You have to end this or else you'll spend the rest of your life hiding."

“But what about you, Y/N?” he asked, worried. "What will happen to you?"

She sighed. Even though she knew that maybe her life would become a nightmare, that wasn't what she was worried about.

It was Mark's life that was at risk, he might never do what he loved again because of a false accusation and if she had the power to stop that from happening, she would strive to help him.

"I'm finally going to put an end to this story. I'm going to stop being the scared, terrified victim." she replied with certainty, a conviction that took Mark's words away.

He just stood there staring at her determined face, he saw a strength in Y/N's eyes that infected him.

He had to do that not only for him or the people he loved but also for everyone else who was going through the same situation.

If he had a chance to start a change, he couldn't let fear stop him.

And as strange as it was, she gave him a security he had never felt before.

Then his eyes dropped to Y/N's lips, not wanting to hold back anymore, Mark moved closer to touch them softly with his own lips.

She slowly closed her eyes at the light contact and had to force herself not to let out a sigh.

However, when Mark hugged her waist and brought her closer while his lips moved skillfully against hers, she simply gave in.

She forgot everything. Her past, her history, what she was doing there, what her mission was.

Mark took her out of orbit and it was intoxicating, all she wanted was to stay there with his warm lips moving slowly against hers, appreciating every inch and tasting her without rushing.

From Mark's face, her hands went to the back of his head and hair, moving his head to the side so that the kiss intensified.

Mark didn't stop the kiss until Y//N hit her back against a hard surface, it was only with surprise that they separated to realize that they were glued to the glass door of the balcony.

She laughed softly, followed by Mark's laugh as he raised his hand to her cheek. Y/N just watched him, with wobbly legs and dropped her hands to his shoulders while Mark caressed her face.

They didn't need words, the only thing that was exchanged there was complicity.

Mark's sideways smile indicated before he tilted his head that he intended to continue what they had started.

If it weren't for the ringing on his phone, notifying him of a new message. He took a deep breath before walking away.

"Y/N. Over."

Still a little dizzy from the lack of air, she reached for the communicator on her waist, watching Mark walk to get the phone from the sofa.

"I am here." She responded, forcing her voice to come out steady.

She saw Mark using his phone with his back to her.

"We saw some strange movement around the back of the building."

Y/N's entire body became alert, her rigid posture appearing again.

"What?"

Y/N didn't take her eyes off Mark, he was motionless.

"It was near some trash cans so we walked around the street to be sure what it was."

She took a deep breath, not liking it.

Mark turned to her, his eyes wide and an expression of pure shock that made Y/N look at him suspiciously.

He turned the phone screen and she returned her attention to Mark's shaking hand until she realized that a video was playing.

She felt her blood boil as she recognized the place and people in the video.

"We didn't find anything."

In front of her, on Mark's phone, a video of the kiss they had just exchanged played with a zoom clearly enough to identify both of them.

Y/N swallowed hard, not knowing what to do for the first time ever.

They kissed with so much passion that even though she didn't feel guilty, she felt embarrassed that it was recorded.

She looked at Mark, who even confused, had understood everything.

"Stop the car and go up to the building. Now." She ordered before turning off the communicator.

Y/N ran a hand over her face while Mark scratched the back of his head, staring at his phone screen again.

"She is here." He spoke quietly, with his eyes lost on a specific point on the phone. "She is here!"

Y/N took a deep breath and approached Mark.

"Hey." She rested her hands on his shoulders. "Mark, look at me."

He obeyed, scared.

"How did she do it?!"

"Don’t do that. That's what she wants, to make you scared!" she reminded him, making him nod.

"She sent the video with a message." He handed the phone to Y/N, who quickly took it, breaking the contact established with Mark.

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes angrily after reading 'If you don't come and find me, your girlfriend will become famous'.

"I'm tired, Y/N!"

She opened her eyes, looking at Mark, he shook his head nonstop, completely disbelieved.

"I can't take all this mess anymore."

"You can, Mark, you're strong!"

He wet his own lips with his tongue and pressed them together in a thin line.

"You are right." He looked at her, making her raise her eyebrow in silent question. "I need to testify. I'm going to testify."

[...]

Y/N was hurriedly walking down the corridor of the police station, it was early in the morning and even though her body was tired from not having gone to sleep yet, the anger and hatred that coursed hotly through her veins left her more awake than ever.

She entered her boss's office without knocking and when she saw him standing next to the table, she found that he was already waiting for her.

He took a deep breath, his hands in his pants pockets.

"What about Mark?" he asked, worried.

"I left the patrollers there." she replied after closing the door with a thud, heading towards the chair in front of the table.

Y/N threw herself into the chair, being watched by her boss.

"Great, so we can talk." She nodded, the boss then handed his phone and she looked at it with a frown. "About this."

Y/N turned her attention to the phone and felt her blood suddenly run cold as she reviewed the video of the kiss between her and Mark.

A lump formed in her throat and she had nothing to say for a few seconds.

"How… who sent you that?" she raised the phone, after closing the video, irritated.

"She sent it to another deputy from another police station." he explained, returning to his chair and sitting down, to face Y/N. "Lucky for you two, he is a good friend of mine and realized it was a case of blackmail. This hasn't been leaked to the press yet."

She swallowed hard. She had nothing to explain to her boss because the video was enough.

"Y/N, I warned you about your emotions in this case."

"Boss, I didn't plan any of this-"

"I know that." He raised his hand to stop her. "But it doesn't make any difference anyway, because that kind of involvement is too dangerous."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Getting emotionally involved with a victim in cases like this rarely ends well." he leaned back in the chair. "Know that I'm not removing you from the investigations just because everything is ready."

She swallowed the answer she wanted to give. It wouldn't be fair to her.

"It would be very difficult to explain why to the supervisor and both you and Mark need to protect yourself from this type of gossip."

She nodded.

"The girl said that if Mark didn't find her, this video would be exposed, but apparently she can't keep her word." She huffed, irritated.

"I thought you better than anyone understood that these kinds of people can't be trusted."

"I'm always surprised." she replied in disbelief.

"I'm going to talk to Mark's lawyer by the end of the day." she frowned, that information was new to her. "We need to get him out of the country as soon as possible, we can't delay it any longer."

Y/N felt her shoulders sag. They were fighting against this possibility at all costs but apparently there was no other way out.

"With the warrant issued, she won't be able to leave the country and so we caught her."

"Let me tell him." she begged, being closely watched by her boss. "Please."

"You overstepped, didn't you?" he crossed his arms after a while of silence.

Y/N swallowed hard and looked at the boss in complete surprise.

"What?"

"You fell in love with the boy."

Y/N felt her entire body shiver and her jaw dropped slightly as words failed her, she wanted to deny it with all her strength but her body didn't obey.

Didn't obey because she agreed with the boss.

Didn't obey because it was true.

At first it was pure need to protect him, she identified with his case in a very personal way. But after the first kiss, she felt her heart leap out of her mouth every time she thought about him, which ended up being very constant because her entire attention was focused solely on Mark, either because she was working on the case or because she was thinking about what had happened between them.

She rubbed her cold hands, still trying to find an answer, which wasn't coming.

"Boss-"

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” his voice sounded much calmer than she imagined. “You can’t imagine how common this is.” she smiled, embarrassed. “But you know what happens now, don’t you?”

She frowned, confused.

“You became the main target.”

“I’m not afraid of her.”

Y/N felt the blood bubbling hotly through her veins every time she thought about that stalker, it was the fuel she needed to do what was right. She wanted justice, that's all.

And she would, one way or another.

[...]

Y/N drove down the streets that would lead to Mark's house, her only purpose in talking to her boss was to ensure Mark's safety. First they would take him out of the apartment and take him to a safe place before boarding him on a flight back to Canada, it would be for a short time but enough to arrest the stalker and begin the trial.

He would come back, that was obvious, but that didn't mean that Y/N's didn’t heart sank and anguished when she remembered that she wouldn't see him for a few weeks.

She wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Attention vehicles, report of suspected robbery at a grocery store.”

Y/N turned up the volume on the radio to hear better and frowned when the location was mentioned, a street next to the one where Mark lived. When the center repeated it, Y/N's mind worked quickly and was soon fitting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

That was why she accelerated the car even more, turning on the siren so she could pass between the cars more quickly. She felt her heart racing faster than the car she was driving and she shook her head, wishing that what she was thinking wasn't happening. However, all her fears became clearer when she didn't see the patrol car on the street outside Mark's house. Y/N got out of the car before she could even turn it off, pulling the gun from her waistband as soon as she set foot on the street.

Her hands were shaking and she had to hold the gun tighter than necessary, she didn't enter the building through the front door, she went through the back and was very attentive to every inch, she went up through the service elevator. She would have taken the stairs if she hadn't known that it had been on purpose, she knew where to go and wouldn't need to analyze the floors of the building as protocol said.

The climb to Mark's floor felt like slow torture and when the metal doors opened, she took a deep breath before leaving. She swallowed hard when she saw the apartment door slightly opened and there was no longer any doubt for her, she felt her heart beating in her ears and her jaw clenched as she approached the door without making a sound.

She raised the gun forward with one hand and with the other she opened the door suddenly, she didn't see anyone in the entrance hall so without thinking twice, she entered the house.

She didn't hear any noise and that made her alert, but when she went to the living room she felt her shoulders give in slightly, the strength seemed to be lacking in her legs but at the same time her instinct reacted by raising the gun towards the stalker who had a knife pointed at Mark's neck.

Y/N swallowed the growl that almost escaped her mouth and aimed for the girl's head, she was ready for that with her finger on the trigger, the stalker didn't even make the effort to hide behind Mark.

She just didn't shoot because Mark's terrified face and tears weighed heavily on her heart. The rational part of her brain knew that if she fired there and now, with the blade's proximity to Mark's skin, she would risk his life.

And that was everything she wouldn't do.

“It took you long enough.”

Y/N took a deep breath, controlling the urge to tell her to fuck off.

That crazy woman was still cynical.

"What do you want?" she asked through gritted teeth, gripping the gun tighter.

“I already have what I want.” She smiled widely, bringing her face closer to Mark's to plant a kiss on his cheek, who tried to pull away with a disgusted grimace. “It’s right here, isn’t it my love?”

“And why all this theater to get me here?” Y/N questioned, glaring at her. “You were the one who made the anonymous report of the theft.” it wasn't a question.

Because the stalker's insolent smile said exactly the answer she already knew.

"Of course." she replied with a tone of obviousness. “How did you expect those two idiots guarding the door to let me in without me being seen?”

“They weren’t going!”

"Exactly." she shrugged. “That’s why I needed to get them out of my way. You should thank me, police officer, I spared their lives.”

Y/N laughed in disbelief.

“You won’t kill a fly.”

The stalker smiled devilishly and pressed the knife further into Mark's neck, making him raise his head to try to get away from the blade, Y/N held her breath.

“Don’t provoke me, officer, you don’t know me.” she threatened.

"Okay!" Y/N agreed. “Get away from Mark and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I walk away and you shoot me. You're smart." she grabbed Mark by the shoulder with her other hand.

Y/N was becoming distressed by the exaggerated proximity so she raised her hands, removing her aim from her head.

"Is it better this way?" she asked angrily, raising her eyebrow.

“I don’t know how Mark got interested in a coward like you.” she teased and Y/N locked her jaw. Okay, she wasn't going to fall for that conversation, it was purposeful and she knew it. “But you know it can be funny.” the stalker slightly raised the hand that was holding the knife and Y/N paid attention to the movement. “Almost like a joke.”

Now it had become too personal.

"You're right." she smiled ironically at her, who looked at her in surprise. “I’m really smart.”

Before a blink of an eye, Y/N aimed the gun at the stalker and fired. The shot echoed through the apartment and Mark flinched to the side in fright, Y/N kept her stance firm and the gun still extended as she saw the stalker fidget on the floor, reaching for her injured shoulder.

Y/N approached in long strides, placing herself in front of Mark protectively, the girl struggled to try and hold the knife that had fallen a little away.

Y/N shook her head and kicked the knife away, far enough away that the stalker couldn't reach it.

"You are under arrest!" she announced before turning to face Mark.

Y/N felt her heart sink when she saw Mark devastated, he seemed like he couldn't breathe and that made her place a hand on his shoulder.

“Mark.” she called softly, seeing him run his eyes around the room, scared. “Hey, it’s over.”

He nodded before looking into her eyes, the exchange of glances was quick but for them it lasted an eternity, until Y/N shifted her attention to Mark's neck.

It was marked and red, but no injuries. It was enough to breathe a sigh of relief, she felt her whole body tingle with the adrenaline that was beginning to subside.

She put the gun in her waistband and took her phone from her pants pocket, calling for backup.

After the call, she lifted the stalker and handcuffed her, leaving her sitting on the floor near the sofa. Then, being very careful not to scare Mark, she led him out of the apartment. Only then would they have privacy to talk.

"Are you okay?" she asked, calmly analyzing his face.

He swallowed, drying his sweaty hands on his pants.

“I guess… I guess so.” he took a deep breath.

“I know, after all the adrenaline wears off your body feels sore.” Y/N's fingers itched to touch Mark's face and this time she didn't hold back.

She made him look her in the eyes. He had a mix of emotions there and it was enough to hug him.

Y/N buried her face in the back of Mark's head and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, shaking so much that she had to pat his back to try to calm him down.

She wanted to envelop him with the certainty that everything was okay in the same way that the heat of his body enveloped her.

"You saved my life." he said, his voice being muffled by the hug. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

Y/N smiled lightly and moved away, seeing Mark's grateful smile up close.

"You don't need to. Just live your life like you have been doing and that’s enough for me.” Y/N's eyes dropped to his lips.

She fought the urge to kiss him one last time and so she bit her lower lip.

“So it’s like this?” Y/N narrowed her eyes at Mark's question, not understanding. “Is this how we’re going to say goodbye?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out as she didn't know what to say, she shrugged sheepishly.

“If you want to-” she started but was interrupted by Mark, who got close enough so that their noses were touching slightly.

Y/N got lost in his eyes, which begged her to stay.

"Don’ go away." he asked and she smiled slightly. “It's going to be hard being away from you, officer. I survived the game thanks to you.”

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