I Trust You / Mark Hoffman X Reader (Contains lemons)

Drinks Are On Me

It was 7 PM by the time you and Hoffman got out of work, and going to a nearby bar.

"Let me guess, you only know about this bar because you busted someone here?" You guessed.

"Unfortunately, no." Hoffman answered.

"Really? That's surprising." You said.

"You'd be surprised at how many cops drink. Almost everyone in the station drinks." Hoffman said. You both sat down and ordered some drinks.

"I've been curious about something." Hoffman asked.

"I thought I was asking the questions?" You joked.

"Well then, ask away. I'll ask my question later." Hoffman said.

"How did you become a detective in the first place?" You asked.

"Just a dream of mine. Been wanting to be a detective since I was a kid. And I had all the support I needed." Hoffman answered.

"Yeah, I'm sure your parents are proud to have a son like you." You smiled.

"You flatter me, but I don't have any family." He said.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Mark." You said, not sure how to respond to that. He sighed.

"It's fine. Like I said, I had all the support I needed." He said, feeling a bit remorseful. You felt bad for bringing his family up, but you truly didn't know. But you wanted to ask more.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your family?" You asked. He looked a bit annoyed at your question.

"Me and my sister were foster kids. We never knew our parents. Never knew our family." He answered.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like it if you'd stop asking about my family. It brings back... painful memories." He said. You wanted to ask more, but you respected his boundries, so you put a pin in it for now.

"What about the Jigsaw cases? When did you start getting involved with those?" You asked.

"I was involved after a man named Seth Baxter got murdered in a trap. After that, I was involved in every case. It intrigued me." He answered. Somehow, you felt like he was hiding something from you. He then sipped some of his drink. You picked up your drink, which you almost forgotten you ordered, and sipped as well.

You then suddenly thought about the case as you sipped. You had no clue who to believe. Strahm was a special agent and hadn't seemed suspicious until now. He was trustworthy enough with his status however. But so was Hoffman. Hoffman was now Detective Lieutenant who was your partner. To you, he seemed just as trustworthy as Strahm. You didn't know who to trust more. But you knew there was a third option to this situation. You could choose not to trust anyone. To store information and if everything seemed to click, choose the verdict for yourself when the time comes.

"Did you have any more questions for me?" Hoffman asked.

"Why don't you ask me some questions?" You said. Hoffman nodded.

"Fine. Do you think Strahm is the accomplice?" He asked, which surprised you.

"What an odd first question. I'm honestly not sure. It all seems so... strange." You said. Hoffman shrugged.

"I understand what you mean. But I personally do believe he's the accomplice. I'm not sure who else it would be. Especially since the fingerprints are there to prove it." He said. You gave a soft hum, thinking about it. He was right, fingerprints are the best evidence they had against him. Now they just needed to find him. Though you weren't fully convinced Hoffman was completely innocent. You still had an odd feeling about him. You looked over at him and he suddenly started to smirk.

"Why do you always get flustered and red when we talk about going to dinner?" Hoffman asked, which made you red. He chuckled, watching you go red.

"The thought of it is just... so taboo and unprofessional. But still a bit... enticing." You confessed. He chuckled again.

"And you said having dinner with me would be strictly professional. Yet you say it as if you wanted to go out with me. Or that you want even more..." He commented rather quietly, raising an eyebrow at you. You went even redder. The way his voice went low and quiet and how he said it as if he didn't mind at all if you felt that way... you couldn't help but be a little excited from it. You ignored this excitement though, blaming it on the alcohol.

"I-I meant enticing as in fun. Not anything more." You said, trying to act normal. He smirked, seeing right through it.

"Any certain kind of fun you had in mind?" He asked. You rolled your eyes, smiling.

"Just talking and asking questions like this. Nothing more. Don't start thinking dirty now." You said. You both laughed a bit.

"You know, I think this is the most I've laughed in a long time." Mark commented.

"Really? How come?" You asked.

"Being a detective, you never really laugh or smile. Everything's all grim and serious. Not that I mind. Or care." He replied. You didn't exactly know what to say about that.

After a while, you two drank more and more. You, being a lightweight, got drunk fast. Hoffman on the other hand was a bit more sober than you, and since you were so drunk to the point you couldn't really walk on your own, he decided to take you home. He carried you to his car, bridal style.

"My hero..." You drunkenly said, smiling and holding him. He chuckled.

"Maybe the bar was a bad idea. I should have taken you to dinner." He murmured. After that, you completely passed out as soon as he opened the car door and sat you down. He sighed, looking at you in your drunken state.

"If I wanted to, I could put her in a trap right now..." He thought, staring at you. As much as he should have, he didn't want to. And he had no idea why. He had only known you for a few weeks, but has already grown fond of you.

As he got in the driver's seat, he looked at you again, sleeping peacefully. He knew you were dangerously close to the case and that he should put you in a trap. But again, he didn't want to. He thought a bit more.

"Let's see if you catch on..." He said out loud. Thankfully, you were already passed out, not hearing a thing. He leaned over you gently and moved some of your hair out of your face. He smiled. He then started the car and began driving back to your apartment.

"Shit... I don't know what room she lives in." He said to himself. While driving, he glanced at your pockets. He then reached down and dug into them, trying not to wake you. He quickly found your keys and looked at them. One key in particular, had a set of numbers on it. 24.

"That's on the third floor. Thank god you had this on your key. I might have had to take you to my house." He said to you, knowing you were still passed out and wouldn't respond. The rest of the drive was quiet, though he was still thinking whether his plan with you was safe for him.

He finally arrived at your apartment complex. He took you out of his car, into the building, carried you up the stairs to the third floor, and got to your door. While holding you, he took the keys and was able to unlock the door, letting himself in. He looked around for a moment, admiring your home. He eventually found the bedroom and laid you down on the bed. He yawned, tired as well, but knew he couldn't stay. He then wrote a note and left it on the table beside your bed. He then took one final look at you, and for the first time, started admiring your looks.

Your beautiful (H/C) hair, your cute face, hell, even the clothes you were wearing, though you wore almost the same thing everyday, he loved on you. He bit his lip as he started to lean down. He kissed you on the cheek, smiling. He knew he shouldn't have done that. He also knew he shouldn't be getting feelings for you. One, because he could lose his job, and two, because he was an accomplice to Jigsaw, and could potentially have to kill you. But even so, in that moment, he couldn't care less.

"I can manage." He thought, leaning back up and starting to turn around and leave. After a few moments, he left, leaving you to slumber peacefully.