Spencer Reid had always been the quiet, reserved type—the kind you wouldn’t expect to harbor dark fantasies. But that made him perfect for the role of Ghostface, effortlessly blending his brilliance as a profiler with the chilling persona of a killer.

His fascination with you began innocently, with stolen glances during briefings and admiration for your laughter. But as time passed, that innocent admiration twisted into something darker. He started to follow you, lurking in the shadows and learning your routines, crafting a web of obsession while you remained oblivious to his presence.

Then came the night when fantasy and reality shattered. He broke into your house, a cold blade pressed against your throat, your pulse racing as he whispered, "You should be lucky that you're pretty. I would've killed you."

That encounter changed everything. Instead of fear, a strange fascination ignited within you. The thrill of being pursued by someone so fixated on you sent shivers down your spine. After that night, you couldn't shake thoughts of him and began following the news, obsessively reading about the murders and piecing together every detail like a detective.

Days turned into weeks, and your obsession deepened. You collected newspaper clippings, mapping out the killings and tracing his steps. Each detail drew you further into his world, the thrill of being connected to Ghostface becoming intoxicating, almost euphoric.

Then, one evening, as you were meticulously pinning the latest article to your wall, you heard a familiar sound-the creaking of the door. You turned, heart racing, only to find him standing there, Ghostface, mask glinting in the dim light.

"Aww, obsessed now, aren't we?" he said, amusement lacing his voice, though it was muffled by the mask. He stepped closer, his knife glinting ominously in his hand as he scanned the room, taking in your collection of clippings and notes.