#actor mark x reader

Darkiplier

split on the issue.

when it slips out from you - there's something about them that just clicks, immediately in fight or flight mode as they battle with internal conflict - something that happens so often when you say or do something they did not expect. their eyes will turn into slits then, slowly turning towards you until they face you fully, not saying anything - at least, not until they decided who's in charge more, until the parts of them have battled it out enough for them to actually give a sensible reaction, to feel one feeling instead of so many at once. this is an issue, as it can oftentimes leave you hanging for a minute or so until they actually remember they have to say something back, or in some way acknowledge you again. there are so few things that put Dark off, that, really, this is a triumph! pat yourself on the back, because Dark is quite literally bluescreening. hell, if you listen closely enough, you might even hear some static! (and, if you'd caught them at a particularly vulnerable time, when their emotions are running high and rampant, only to be snuffed out by a single comment - you'll even see their reactions in real time, the many heads of them coming to surface as they take- ghostly? glitching? form, cloning about in several different kinds of reactions, all which dissapear once Dark decides what they actually want to say. it's best if you ignore those, in reality - but damn if it isn't at least a little bit funny.)

if Celine's the one in control, you can expect the worst. or, the best? depending on how you view it. if this is the case, the stare and the stoicism will easily melt off into a kind of contentedness, a kind of self-pleasing victory that sits in their chest, kneading like a cat across the expanse of their suit. they might even include a bit of teasing, if they feel so inclined. a steady 'Pardon?' with a crooked, barely visible smirk and an adjusting of their suit, specifically tugging on their jacket's lapel to settle it back into place where it's getting stretched from a few too many deeply taken breaths. what did you say? they didn't quite catch that. say it again? oh, and if you do? if you don't get all flustered on them, if you're assertive and, well- take what you want? you can expect to be pulled into their lap, heavily, sensually touched at the least, and well- more, uh, intimate things at the most. on average, you'll usually be very passionately kissed all over, or tugged into a private, makeout session until your lips are red, puffy and raw. Dark isn't much for affection, at least not the kind of public displays some may lavish their partner with - those are things more reserved away from the eyes of others. therefore, if you do do it in front of others - expect a cough, a strict look you can only interpret as a displeased one, and a glossing over of the entire incident before returning to the topic at hand. later, if you're alone and you mention it again, they will be stricter with you. you know they don't enjoy those kinds of things in public - why are you being difficult? boundaries are there for a reason. must they remind you, again? but if you're doing it in private? all over you, without question - at least while Celine's in charge, as opposed to Damien.

if Damien's in charge, there are still remnants of Celine in there, don't get it twisted. as there are hints of Damien in the moments of when Celine's in charge, as well. in the cases when Damien wins over, however, all you can expect is confusion. don't get them wrong, they're still... pleased you're interested, but... now? now? right now? you had to do this, right now? what brought this on? what did they do, if they did do something? it's not worry, not quite - Dark's way too confident and assertive to be that insecure, but, well- was there a trigger? if so, they'd like to know. is this something you'd be keen on trying? is this something you're interested in? you should've let them know beforehand. all in all, if Damien's in charge, Dark treats it more like a conversation to be had, almost business-like in their approach. they wouldn't outwardly react positively or negatively to it, no, but you know that underneath all that is some sort of satisfaction, however mild and well covered it may be. this, you can read solely from the fact that there's no questioning of whether you're sure or not, whether this is something that you're lacking, but instead - is this something Dark could work on? is this something extra, something added onto your already existing relationship? it's treated as something additional, something new you could both explore - and better yet, something normal. something that, above all, Dark wants you to be comfortable in before proceeding. it's the assurance provided by both of their sides, mixed perfectly.

in their entirety, though- joke or not, coincidence or not, Dark would actually enjoy exploring something like that with you. but the angle is somewhat different. instead of something, well, to some extent inappropriate or shameful, or even coy in nature, it's just another way of saying 'I want you.', except in this new, unexplored way. or at least, that's how Dark thinks of it. it's just another way of saying you're theirs, fully and truly - and another way they can reassure you in your choice of partner. after all, they can give you anything you want. can't they?

Yancy

well, there's definetly a transitional period there.

you may be very surprised when you first mention this to Yancy, coincidentally or intentionally - because, unfortunately, this just makes him think of fathers, and then of- his father- and then- of his crimes, and oh. oh no. oh no, he's not doing well. he's looking at you in a confused manner, almost frozen in place, but what he's focused on isn't the funny part of it (if it was meant as a joke) or even the, well, more sensual part of it - but instead, the association he has with the word in general just cuts him down entirely. as in, he almost shuts down completely. of course, he tries to play it off, like he usually does - he's not- he's not upset, you see, he's just, ah, surprised! you're so surprising! gosh, he's not- oh. oh, there he goes, stuttering his words. oh no. now he's going partially nonverbal. oh, oh- quickly! say you were joking! oh goodness- hug him, now, hug him-

it takes some getting used to. definetly.

if this is a serious idea you have, something you genuinely want to try with him, you could definetly make it work! it'll just take a bit of trial and error to get there. Yancy's... well, not delicate, but he certainly has a set of triggers, and unfortunately, you've found one! oops. but that's nothing a healthy conversation about boundaries and limits can't fix! if that's what you're into, sure, he can try it - the approach you take is, then, what makes the whole thing a 'make it or break it' kind of situation. the key is to take it slow - explain why you're into it, so he slowly begins to understand, and most importantly, emphasize that it has no tie, whatsoever, to the crimes he committed, nor that you blame him for them, or take them against him. (if you do in general, that relationship is just, not going to work. I'm sorry.) separating these two is extremely important. only then, after he's comfortable with you enough, can you really attempt it. and oh, if you suceed at these? you're in for a treat.

once he realizes what you mean by it, once he gets the idea - sure, he can play it up for you! if it's a joke, he'll lean even further into it, teasing you and coaxing out responses from you until you're beet red, trying to admit what you wanted- if it's a genuine thing for you, well he can- certainly try to be accomodating. (though even then, he'll be pretty soft witcha. don't expect much in terms of immediate responsiveness from him, since he'll be a bit unsure of how to approach it, even if he's pretending to be super competent at it. just take it slow.) if it was a slip-up? uh, he can forget about it, if you want. but only if you want to! he doesn't want you forcing yourself away from it if he's willing to have a serious conversation about it. why would you shy away from something that makes it all click for you? c'mon, talk to him.

just don't be super forceful, and if you really want to make it a whole thing, be patient with the guy. and hey, if it's something you want to forget as soon as possible, he's right there with you, too. lips sealed. don't worry about it, dollface, he didn't hear aaaaanything.

Head Engineer! Mark

uh, Captain, are you feeling alright, there?

as you're coughing and sputtering out of embarrassment of letting it slip by without intending to, he's all over you. what did you say? what was that? seriously, you're not going to tell him? c'mon, Captain, he's your Engineer! y'know you can tell him anything, right? even the super embarrassing stuff! he'll start talking your ear off about things he did to make you more comfortable with fessing up - small secrets, tidbits, personality quirks (most of which you knew already, seeing as he is wearing his heart on his sleeve most of the time, but he doesn't need to know that). if you end up telling him, what awaits you is silence as his skintone slowly changes, boiling over into a deep, beet red. wha- C-Captain! you can't say things like that! do you even know- what- that means?? of course you do, you're like, super smart and all, but- Captain! how- what- huh?? he's so flustered he can barely get the words out. seriously, at some point he'll probably escape the conversation with some excuse about 'oh the warpcore needs looking at' or 'I haven't checked in with Burt yet today', literally anything to just flee the room (something that is rare by itself - he's usually glued to your side as much as humanly possible. or, at least, as much as is polite, under reasonable circumstances. it kind of feels strange, not having him by your side.)

now, you could take advantage of this, if you so choose.

as a joke, this can turn into a beyond hilarious situation - if you are the teasing type, of course. any time you mention it, if even a little, he'll flinch violently, suddenly either dropping whatever tool he was using or doing something similarly clumsy - spilling coffee all over his overalls, completely missing the part of the wall he was going to lean onto, tripping over invisible steps - really, anything you could think of. of course, you'll make sure to get him to the infirmary if he injures himself, but he's blushing heavily all the while. but at the end of the day, he'll return the favor just as feverishly - visiting you in your Captain's quarters as he interrogates you - what the heck was that? Captain, seriously, he holds a lot of respect for you - but, but - you can't just confuse him like that! he has a job to do! you can't- just- aaaagh! you can be so frustrating, y'know? but like, he doesn't like you any less, but just, ugh, y'know?

this is the perfect opportunity to corner him, if you are actually serious about your offer. press him against the wall a little, get a bit too deep into his bubble - and repeat it. until he melts, or until he gets so flustered he turns annoyed, and then all the reason's out of the metaphorical window. that's- you can't- do that, Captain! what the hell?? that's so- and then you mention how he must be blushing because he likes it, and everything falls silent while he ponders that notion.

conclusion: he doesn't mind it to the point it angers him, but he struggles with being teased and with taking a dominant role in the whole conversation regarding it, especially because of your own rank. just be careful not to overstep, if you tend to toe the line. sometimes you can be a bit much, Captain.

(if you'd rather forget about it, though, he won't mention it, either. he will look at you strangely for the few weeks after it, and maybe, just maybe - if you're lucky, he'll ask you why you did it and then just quit immediately, which is when you can have a proper conversation with him about it. surprisingly, he's actually really okay with it (and even more so with trying it, if you're that serious about it - anything for his Captain), as long as it's talked about prior. he does still have the tendency of blushing whenever you bring it up, though, in public or in private, doesn't matter.)

Actor! Mark

speaking of teasing.

fully gets into it and knows exactly what you mean - even if you don't mean what he thinks you do? it's a joke, you assure him as he slowly, menacingly backs you up into the nearest wall - just a joke! but not to him, because oh, aren't you just darling? firstly, he sees it as a way to exploit you, so to say? it's an opportunity to tease the hell out of you - what did you say? oh, really, now? why don't you explain - exactly - why that would be in any way an appropriate joke to say? or, if you're serious, why exactly that's something you're into? c'mon. he's going to find out either way, so it's best if you fess up now. (in great, excruciating detail.)

immediately assumes the most depraved option. it's not the most unusual thing he's heard, though - since he comes from an era where people are used to experimenting with stranger nicknames and petnames - but is this really the road you want to go down? is this really how you want people to know you call him, even as a joke? my, isn't that embarrassing, little darling? and he so loves to see you squirm in your spot as you try to think of an excuse. he'll mention it often, especially after it transpired - doesn't care if it's in public or not, either. you'll hear nonchalant notions like, 'What was that that you called me x days ago?' or, 'Mmm, you didn't say that before. Why don't you try again?', or, (the most uncomfortable one, especially if you did it unintentionally and/or as a joke), 'Come sit on daddy's lap, won't you, gorgeous?' (that physically hurt to write, holy shit- but he would. he would.). this man has no shame whatsoever. like, not even a smidge. he's sitting there, smug as ever, grinning like he's the Chesire Cat incarnate. oh, and if you try and run away from him? try and escape the horrid feelings of the utter and complete need for the ground to swallow you whole (whether that makes you, khm, excited or embarrassed)? no, no, you're not going a. ny. where. he'll pull you towards him forcefully, make you sit there, pressing up against him, while he repeats it over, and over and over again, addressing himself in third person, playing with your clothing or hair while you hide your face behind the palms of your hands, the heat permeating through you like a pulsating wave, like you're at such a level of ripeness your cheeks might just explode and burst open.

do not even attempt to test this man, and if you can - pay close attention to your own words/actions as to not provoke him. trust that he will not let it go, not ever. even if you say you're embarrassed, asking him to stop mentioning it - honey, you're just adding fuel to the flame, just stroking his ego even further. for your own sake, try to hold yourself back. he loves the power it gives him way too much to leave you be.

Wilford Warfstache

stops in the middle of the conversation to let the word linger, but carries on as per usual in a matter of seconds.

being someone who originated from the 1920s (just like the Actor, or Damien), he's heard of people calling each other strange things - hell, he calls his good friends 'bully', still! he knows he's out of the loop a little, what with his age, and- wait- what year is it again? ah, whatever. he'll usually sweep off to the side, and won't adress it really, afterwards. instead, he'll just accept it! cool, you have a new petname for him? he can roll with it, cupcake, don't worry your cute little head about it! (he'll even cradle your face while reassuring you, patting your cheeks as he leans his hands against them as if he's trying to say 'there, there.' while you look on at him, utterly confused.) immediately takes to calling himself that, too, in your presence (as a third person kind of addressing). if you're embarrassed in any way, shape or form, you'll really have to drag him to the side to explain exactly why you feel that way, and even then- what, did he misunderstand something? you were so clear about it! but, well- if you have boundaries, he gets it. (he will still slip up sometimes. he kind of likes it, actually, and that's a fact that either horrifies you more and more as he continues to slip up, or makes situations awkward, more than they could ever be. thankfully for you - no one really bats an eye to what Wil does/says these days, and even better if you're someone who'd be embarrassed by the fact - they'll probably assume it was his idea. which, it kind of is? the lines get blurry fast. and they'll probably assume you're uncomfortable with it, and will shed pitying glances your way - that is, if they care about you at all.)

don't get him wrong, though - he knows exactly why that kind of thing would be considered dirty. but come on, chick - there have been worse things people have called each other in a loving sense, with less of the whole, sensuality of it, y'know? he trusts you. why wouldn't he be able to experiment with you in the same way? but oh- if you meant it as a joke, he'll catch on, too. if anything, Wilford knows how people react, what they mean. he'd been around waaay too many people not to be able to catch onto hidden meanings by now, and if you're joking? he plays it up, too! the difference lies in the kinds of situations he uses it - if it's serious, he can bring it up in the most mundane situations, even going as far as to refer to himself as that during breakfast or something (making you spit out your coffee), but if you're joking it's usually in situations where it's meant as a joke, where he's trying to appear lax when threatening someone, or while he's relaxed and having a good time (probably at a party or something, knowing him). he really, he has to admit, likes the whole domineering, power couple vibe it can bring to any situation. even then, he'll say it with his usual mannerisms, so it's kind of hard to say, at least when you ask someone who doesn't know him fully, to know whether he's joking or not - but a little chuckle here and there will probably give him away. he can't help it, especially when he sees you biting your lip as to not laugh yourself. literal partners in crime, and the joke is on everyone else.

Illinois

what? you- uh, um- s-sure. yeah, okay. let's go with that.

does it feed his ego? yes. does it also make the whole thing awkward as hell? also yes. as in, as soon as you say it, he's choking on his words, turning to the side while he lets out a violent series of coughs, trying to get back to his senses. literally, you've shocked this man so badly he's dropped his entire character, his entire persona. congrats!

but why is that? because even while he's trying to grapple with the fact of- what did you just say? - he still can't deny it doesn't spark something in him. not specifically anything, well, naughty, or at least not fully, he thinks? it's moreso a compliment to him, albeit a really weird one, in his opinion. you think he has any characteristics to be caring, or you're confirming for him that he's just - that hot? oh holy hell. that is a stroke to his ego he never thought he'd experience. after a coughing fit, he'll probably go back to the topic at hand without mentioning it, but... he can't lie, he'll be thinking about it later. he won't exactly say anything to you, as in, you'll never really have the conversation of 'what was that?' unless you yourself push it (in which case he'll even try to play dumb, only remarking that it must've been something else that made him react like that). so, he'll just, kind of - wait for you to mention it again? at the very least he will never refer to himself as that. he'll maybe, maybe, once throw in a joke about it if he finds himself in a situation where he has to display those kinds of qualities (like taking care of a child, for example - where he'll offhandedly mention something like, 'Well, you did imply I had the skills for it.'), but only once. he may blush behind closed doors about it later, ruminating over what your own reaction to that was like.

as a joke? yeah, he- uh- totally caught onto that one. absolutely. didn't make him feel any kind of way or nothing, nope. or so he says as he tries, awkwardly, to laugh it off. (please, a part of him begs, don't make it into a joke. this man needs reassurance that he still gets you going, as much as he knows he's like, the most wanted man alive.) it doesn't really work, as the whole conversation just falls flat. he won't mention it to you again after.

The Host

is he reciting the entirety of a smut novel to you?

as it slips out, the whole room seems to shift in tone. the Host, well- he isn't usually one for jokes, and even if he is, it takes a well-placed ambience and a good introduction for it to occur, something just between you and him, hiding beneath the pages. but now? he's speechless. it's both an odd mixture of shock and helplessness - what the hell is he supposed to do with that? the Host isn't used to being teased - everything is usually so plainly clear between the two of you, that even when he's reading between the lines, you're perfectly, crystal clear. now he doesn't know what to do. now, he's just looking at you as if you're alien to him, before he does the only other thing he can, he knows best: he narrates.

he narrates every emotion coursing through him at that exact moment - the confusion, the anticipation for a resolution, the bafflement, the perplexity of it all - basically, he lays it out like a criminal case, as if he were a detective attempting to solve it. even as you're tugging on his arm all the while, trying to distract him ('Hey, it was just a joke, y'know! I didn't mean it, can you- stop it, please?'), he treats it just like that - a distraction. no, he has to get into your head - why would you say something like that? even accidentally, why is that your first thought? (it gets even worse when he, aloud, starts referencing all the erotica literature he'd seen - which is not much, he'll be fair - and cross-examining it with facts he knows about you, trying to make sense of it by tying them together.) if he can find the cause? great. moving on. he's figured it out, and he can be at peace now. if you need something like that from him, if he thinks it's something you'd want to try - sure, you can have a nice, civilized, diplomatic discussion about it. only then will he value your opinion and actually sit down to listen to you before jumping to conclusions - though, not before he's made his own assumptions first. if he can't? literally spirals. in the sense of, he's stuck in that loop until you give him a reason, which can be very embarrassing for you, or put him in a very split state if you don't exactly know the reason why you did it.

all in all, it can be a very good trick to have if you want him to literally stop whatever he's doing to try and figure it out, but be wary of the fact that he will be thinking out loud about it, unintentionally spilling secrets you'd only told him along the way. if that's out of the question, then try to not to let it happen, or try to distract him by any other means. at the end of the day, of course, if you're serious about trying it - of course he can, at the very least, have a conversation with you about it, weighing in your own opinion, as well as the pros and cons. you're adults, after all, why wouldn't you be able to talk it out? just don't expect him to stop talking about it as he's thinking - just, give him a minute.

Heist! Mark

surprisingly, the only deadpan, serious one.

as soon as you say it, he's halting whatever he's doing with a perplexed expression - and by that I mean, literally frozen. holding something in his hand, moving it from place to place? now it's literally being held in midair as he tries to process the information just alloted to him. you're- what- what did you say? is this a new joke you're pulling? or, like, a new trick you can use during your next heist? should he be concerned or are you pushing some new act on him he should try and be a part of?

again, he's one of the only ones whose personality literally switches off immediately. even if it was a joke, he's so confused that there's literally no room in his brain for anything else. he almost becomes parental - straightening up his back, laying a hand on your shoulder, swift but strict, eyes squinted, turning to you, 'Are you doing okay?' it's so out of character for him, it's you who's concerned, now. he gives off the exact vibe of 'We'll talk about this at home.', so much so that you actually think you'd made some sort of transgression here. unintentionally, he can build up a lot of anxiety in a person with this kind of response. but he doesn't mean it, honestly! it's literally beyond his control how shocked he is.

only when you catually do talk about it, sit down all serious and responsible, only when you explain yourself to him properly, and he really does force you a bit to spill the beans - can he really sit there and have an actual reaction... which is of course, him being smug as all hell. so, you think of him like that, do you? huh, of course you do., he remarks as he looks off to the side, smile crooked where it stretches across his face, trying to be the most charming version of himself he can (it's not obvious at all that you would think of him like that in general.) well, he guesses you can try it, if you're serious about it- and if you don't, if you want to just forget about the whole thing? oh, c'mon! he was getting into it! damn it. well, he guesses he can respect it. but- if you ever change your mind, you know where he is, don't you? (if you're joking, he doesn't care either way. he's way too busy being into it himself to register it as an actual joke. oops?)

Antisepticeye

one of the many things you should call him, actually. (or at least, that's what he thinks.)

now, this really depends on how far and how deeply under his control you are. if we're talking about you being somewhere near the beginning - that is, not really influenced by him whatsoever, maybe scared of him, if anything, then yeah, it's very weird that you would call him that? as in, it throws him off his game a bit, but not enough to actually rattle him. this would most likely occur as a type of fawn response to your own fear, and to him. (read: fawn response is a type of "response to a threat by becoming more appealing to the threat", according to Psychology Today) essentially, just you scrambling around trying not to be absolutely obliterated by this monster of a... well I was going to say man, but he isn't a man, not really? the earlier into the relationship this happens, the more put off he is about it - to the point he might even ignore it if this is maybe the second or third time you're meeting?

but if you're deeper into your... "relationship", so to say, he's fully accepting of it. even if you mean it as a joke - your entire existence is a joke to him, so it means very little in terms of whether he takes it seriously or not. but he will take it seriously, that you can trust. in terms of how he views himself compared to you, he might even be worse than the Actor, fully believing that you are beneath him in every and all forms, and that you are someone who is meant to be controlled. that you can't survive on your own, and the best chance you have at it is fully surrendering yourself to him. he'll stop for a second or two once you say it, halting just to process, before he another one of his famous smirks makes its way onto his face. oh, you want to play like that? sure, he can oblige. why not? if you're aware enough to call him that, accidentally or not, of your own volition - well, that just means he's not doing enough to 'put you under', so to speak - under himself, status-wise, that is. you're meant to be drooling at his feet, unable to even stand unless he decides you should, unless he's being kind enough to help you along. but even then... maybe all you're good for is crawling beneath him. it's a tough choice.

if you're fully under his control, now that's a different story. Anti wants to experiment with you - he has to be able to walk, talk, and know humans inside and out to adapt as quickly as possible, to capture better, faster. and as much as he hates stooping down to your level, even if it's only for pretend - he can admit it's extremely funny whenever you actually fall for his tricks. seriously, how stupid can you be? (you and every other human.) and while he can gather a lot of information just from being online, he needs you - something he loathes to admit - for the more... physical parts. and if he's already using you, giving you a purpose, well... why can't he have a little fun with it? you are his puppet, after all - you dance when he wants you to. so calling him something like that, or master, or calling out any other position where you demean your own existence - that's funny as all hell to him. even to the point where he'll make you do it just for the sake of it, just to drill it into whatever part of the brain you've got that's not under his control yet. oh, but soon, dollie. soon.

he is your god, is he not? it's only fair.

Simon the Convict

uh, what? what's that?

fully stumped. not in the way of, 'oh, what did you say? why did you say it? that's so dirty, eeeugh-' no, this man genuinely has no idea what you're talking about. as in, the only father he's ever known has been, well, Father! and do you really think, amongst all else, that kinks are something you can indulge in in Eden, let alone, the prisons at the C.O.I.? absolutely not. he's literally trying to survive. thinking about sex, at all, is something waaaay beyond his scope of thinking, as in, it's not even a part of his day to day unless he has a partner or is safe enough in all other areas (resources, food, water, etc.) to even have that need. the apocalypse does that to a man, y'know?

but there's some benefit in that, too. it depends on whether or not you tell him what it means, joke or not. you can either, a) lie to him (which would be funny, but if he found out, he'd very much be angry with you after. not angry enough to break up or anything, but you would be sleeping on the metaphorical or literal couch for the next week or so) or b) tell him the truth.

if you opt to lie to him, you could, technically get away with saying it more often. it could be a joke between you and the others, (referencing my own Simon universe in here as part of the compound, inspired by that of RandomWriter28) your coworkers most likely, as you keep calling him that as you would any other nickname. if this is something you did accidentally, and not as a joke, though, and you choose to lie to him - well, it depends whether he'd find out or not. he could ask someone about it, but I doubt he would. Simon strikes me more as a guy who, if you don't tell him outright what something means, just assumes it isn't important anyways. I mean, why would you lie to him? you're his partner! (sprinkle some salt on the wound, why dont'cha) the other possibility would be if someone else did the same or similar thing, or if it came up as a topic of conversation amongst his own coworkers. then, if he did find out, he'd probably just offhandedly mention it when you're alone, moreso in the style of 'I know what that word means now, just letting you know.' but I doubt he'd make a big deal out of it. he knows that it's sort of an intimate thing now, and he gets you'd be kind of embarrassed, so he leaves it be. that is, unless you decide you'd want to get deeper into it, leading to a more serious conversation.

that leads us to option b) telling him the truth. if you do admit it, whether you meant it as a joke or said it accidentally, he'd be confused, of course, asking you to elaborate. he'd listen to your explanation thoroughly - after all, this is enough to make you embarrassed to some degree, so it must hold at least some weight. if you said it as a joke, he'll most likely, again, let it go with a thoughtful 'Hm.' as he turns back to whatever he was doing before. if you decide you want to be more serious about it though, explaining it as something you'd want to try, he'd definetly at least listen to you and try it out once, at a later date. especially if this is something that's important to you. even then though - he'd mainly be doing it for you. again, he'd never really been the type to think about the intricacies of intercourse - in his brain, it's all you. you're hot, you're his partner. what else does he need to get him going? but if you genuinely try it and it well, sparks something in you... sure, you can try it again. and again. and again. as long as he can stare at your face as he makes you feel good. as long as you keep making that expression.

in general though, he's very lax about it. you don't want to talk about it? got it. you want to talk about it, try it? also got it. just don't lie to him. don't make him look stupid.

Damien

you think he's all shy and flushed, but he's just acting coy. he knows what you're on about.

as the Mayor, Damien needs to be super composed, serious, gentlemanly - but that doesn't mean he didn't do... things... when he was younger. doesn't mean he has no experience. of course, he knows what you're talking about, but he isn't really keen on admitting it. it could hurt his reputation, you know? yes, he knows that most of his friends are worse off than that in terms of how they view it, yes, he knows being more relaxed about his, well, sexuality could bring in more people, paint him as more approachable, and honest- but it's a risk he's not really willing to take.

if you call him it accidentally, especially in public or something, very quick to end the conversation and pull you to the side, chastizing you lightly. what was that about?? do you even know what you're saying? goodness, dear- just, don't do that again. and take a couple of minutes, cool off. walking back to the conversation without you, he'll shake his head in disappointment after he makes up some excuse in your stead to the people you were talking to or diverts the conversation entirely. if you did it when you were alone? completely red in the face, and will either go silent, too shy to speak, or change the subject completely to something else, as if he's never heard it. but, oh, being closed doors? man is shaking like a leaf.

with Damien, it's always the nice Mayor, the friendly Mayor, the one who's willing to listen to anyone. but with you? when he looks at you - god, it's like he's a highschooler all over again. just hearing those words coming out of your mouth... and he knows, he knows you're not all sunshine and rainbows yourself. in fact, you might be even more openly talkative about such subjects than he is, but, damn it- he really, really likes that. won't ever admit it, though, not to you, not to anyone. playing the innocent, insecure, knight in shining armour persona's so rooted in him that he can't help it, but even as he's partially disgusted with himself, he knows he's horrid underneath. not a bad person, not necessarily, but- worse than you in terms of how depraved he can be. worse than most people he knows, and regarding that? he's highly insecure. even if you joke about it with him, even if you just tease him, he'll deny it till the end of his days. it'll take a substantial amount of work, weeks to months of talking about it over and over again, asking him, pleading with him - that is, if you intend to do something serious with what you're asking. and when he agrees? you're not even sure who he was in the first place.

don't push him too hard. you might uncover things you never could've expected.

Murdock

what's that? oh- yeah, okay. mhm, sure, but- tell him something first: which knife do you think will do the job better, this one or that one?

Murdock loves you, he really does. that's something he can say with ease - you're his apprentice, after all, and he doesn't spill his secrets to just anyone. when you slip up like that, though - he can't help but dismiss you, if even lightly. most of the time you spend together is spent planning your next kill, or performing one, so even as you joke around with him- he can't really focus on you right now. not when there's a screaming victim in front of him. you get it, right? and pass him that gag, won't you?

now, that isn't to say he has no reaction whatsoever. the man just loves his job a bit too much! or well. 'job'. if you could call it that. but he thinks about it while he's attempting to gauge the woman's eyes out as cleanly as possible. how should he react to it, once he has no choice to do anything but look at you? if it was a joke, sure, he can joke with you. even give you a sarcastic or not laugh before he shifts your attention over to the scalpel you're handing him. but if it was a slip-up? he really doesn't know, he thinks as he cuts the body up, digging into the skin with a knife from his personal collection, making sure to preserve the fingers as he goes. in the end, he decides to focus on the victim more than anything, hoping it'll clear his mind enough to figure out what to say. (you can see it in the intensity behind his eyes. the gears turning, the calculations running. in the sweat dripping across his brow, hyperfocused on the body.)

when he's wiping down his tools after, your gaze barely lingering on him for more than two seconds, he realizes the answer is actually quite simple. you pushed it, didn't you? or, well- you had it on your mind. and who is he not to indulge you? after all, you'd been so attentive afterwards, been such good help recently. all good students deserve a reward from time to time, no? so he'll slink over to you, trapping you in place with your chin locked in between his fingers as he rises it for your eyes to meet yours. come again? would you like to repeat what you said before? (god, especially as the scent of blood still lingers in the air, splashed across your face in the same streak from where it spurted out of that main artery. you were so precise, and so, so filthy. he adores you, you know?) if you want something serious, if you want something from that - do tell him. be good, c'mon. he'll make all your dreams come true, just tell him what he wants to hear.

(and if you're attempting to gloss over it? not a chance. not with him. maybe he won't address it right then, right there - but eventually, he will. eventually, all of your consequences catch up to you, and you'll have to be clear with him.)

Jim

wait- hold on there- just, wait a second-

immediately pulling out his microphone. what did you expect? if you're lucky, you'll get a few seconds, closer to a minute, before you're blasted with questions. is this a new trend among people of your generation? is this something that's popular online? (is this something you've told anyone else before?) really, it's almost overbearing, what with the lights that are pointed in your direction and all. you're usually used to being the one behind the camera for him (or, them?) so to say this kind of reaction is strange is beyond you. you're shy, twiddling your fingers, tugging at your collar - but Jim? having the time of his life. he's discovering new things about his partner! he's seeing them in a whole new light, and- most important of all - he has a new topic to divulge in. hold on, he'll come back to you once he does more research, just- just hold on!

if you tell him it's all a joke, you can risk getting him in hot water. with who, you ask? uhhhh, himself? the other Jims? but he gets all sopping wet, all droopy and sad with a little 'oh.' at the end. he was really excited to interview you! you, like, never get to be in front of the camera! even if this was a bit niche - that makes it all the more interesting! and he gets to talk more about his partner! oh, and now it's all ruined. you can easily make him feel better (if you choose to) by redirecting the subject or returning to it. sure, you guess, if it makes him feel better, you can talk about it. or something else equally as interesting to him - like, your favorite food, or the newest things you found online! really, anything about you is considered valuable news. you're like, the most interesting person in the world to him! how could such talent be wasted behind the camera?! (not that you're not a good cameraperson, no, he's not saying that. your footage is much better than when he's behind it, actually.)

if it was a slip-up? don't worry, he can tell you're into it. in fact, let him tell you all the fun facts about it! let's see, where should he start... (overall, could not care less about how 'dirty' or whatever it is. everything and anything regarding information about you, to him, as previously stated, is interesting enough to have lenghty conversations about - preferably in an interview, unless you're way too shy. if you want something serious with him about it, sure, he can try! just uh, let him research it first. and, and, a proper interview beforehand? please?)

Date! Mark

I mean, as long as you're into it, so is he.

this man is so eager to please you he'd literally agree to anything you say. well, as long as you're nice about it. you're joking about it? he's laughing, even if it is a bit forceful, because, like - that's a bit intimate, but okay! he guesses! whatever floats your boat! you're like, super pretty when you're laughing, anyways, so- he's not complaining, even if he doesn't fully understand it.

if it's a slip-up? already there to tell you that hey, it's fine, it's alright, that's like, the most normal thing he's heard regarding kinks, (he's lying, at least on the whole front of 'what he's heard'. based on his personality, you doubt he's talking to people about these sorts of things. you can tell he's lying. besides, if he's not- what else has he heard that's weirder than that?? you're beginning to question his tastes, seriously.) and he's completely understanding of it. people like what they like, right? and like, he's kind of flattered you think of him in that way? you think he's strong, and handsome, and like, hot? that's hot. no, um, he means- that's uh- that's really attractive! yeah! that's- oh god, he's tugging at his collar. um, he's really glad you like him, that's all he means.

furiously researches it when he's alone, but he won't really admit it? as in, he's not going to come bragging to you about how he knows everything about it now, but he'll nudge you this way and that about it. you know what you said the other day, even if you didn't mean to? oh, well- uh- if you wanted to talk about it more seriously, if you wanted to, like- think about it more seriously, maybe even, (he's nervous as all hell, sweating through the shirt underneath his jacket) try it with him? he's down. or whatever. to, um, trying it. if you are. if not, that's okay too! he'll just forget about it. yeap! all done! poof, gone! (he's not forgetting about it anytime soon.)

Dave Torres

uh, thanks?

this man is so sleep deprived he thinks he's hallucinating you saying it, so- joke or not, it makes little to no difference. I mean, if you really wanna joke with him about it, you'll have to repeat it to him several times until he catches on, but even then the joke loses its funny effect after you'd said it so many times, so at most what you'll get is an 'oh.' and a tint to his cheeks. he's flattered, really, but uh, you really think so? you really, um, put him in that category? wow. he doesn't know what to say. he's not used to people relying on him in that way, or being dominant, anyhow - he really likes taking care of people, instead, but the implication still stands. as much as he is embarrassed a bit, he's also glad, in a weird way. at least you're still attracted to him, even if he's a bit of a mess.

if it's a slip-up and you don't repeat it back to him? you have a 50-50 shot he'll just ignore it and think his brain's acting up again. surely, you didn't say that, that'd be kind of silly., he mutters as he convinces himself it's not worth pushing you around about it, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. but the other 50 percent is him bugging you about it. what did you say? seriously, c'mon. he'll only relent if he sees you're really adamant about keeping it secret, so he'll ask again later. but he is really curious about it, and you know that when Dave's curious about something concerning the people that he loves, he doesn't really give up on it - no matter how small it is. you can rely on him, and be weird with him, y'know. can't be worse than what he's told you. if you do say it, reiterating how weird it may or may not sound to him, he's immediately reassuring you. no, seriously, it's okay. he's not weirded out at all. it's just, a bit surprising - but a good kind of surprise, trust him! at least, he doesn't think any less of you for it. he's got his own weirdness to him, again, so you're more than fine.

(if you mention wanting to be serious about trying it or something? he's a bit insecure, sure, but overall, he'd be down. just, uh, if he's not doing a good job - you'll tell him, right? and uh, if he can't, perform that well, you can- you're going to tell him? he's allowed to stop if he doesn't, think it's his thing? yeah? okay, whew. not that he probably would, even if he thinks he's doing an awful job. as long as he sees you're into it, that'll probably encourage him enough to go on. if he's really uncomfortable, he'll talk to you later about it, after you'd fully tried it out.)

The Drowned Man! Mark

okay... and?

regardless of whether you're joking or not - nothing is a joke to him. nothing, especially in the presence of ghouls, demons, ghosts - hey, are you recording? straighten up!

if it was meant to be a joke, during recording or not, he'll chastize you about being unprofessional. ghost hunting is a serious profession, don't you know that? god, makes sense why your other show failed. (fully ignoring the fact his did too.) if you're outside of the property that's being haunted, not recording, he won't chastize you for joking, per se... but he will fully take it in stride and treat it as a normal thing. should he start calling you the same? you think that's funny? I mean, it kind of is. but you know how serious he is! don't forget that, okay?

if it's a slip-up, he's more keen on it, dragging it further along. no, repeat that. what did you say? c'mon, speak up. you're so eager to talk every time you're behind that camera of yours, you might as well. what, did you think it was a compliment? or did a spirit talk through you? no, no, tell him. even as you squirm under his attention, dismiss him, he'll press it further with a completely straight face. treats it like a fact more than like a secret, or something intimate. and if you do tell him, which you'll have to eventually to try and get him off your back- huh, that's it? oh. okay. and completely turns to the side, telling you to grab your camera before you head out. it seems like he doesn't care, especially when you start believing he intends to use it as blackmail, sharing it around with the same tone with which you regard the weather, but if you genuinely ask it of him as your partner, ask him to try it?

When you went back to that house, it felt... different.

You supposed it had been a long time since you had paid a visit to your family home, and you had been young... but only younger than you were now, when you came back the last time. There was no moping around anymore, no slinking, sopping wet feeling of despair and misery deep in your muscles when you entered. Just... quiet. You almost missed the annoyance of the depressive episode that would come soon after you'd left, the feelings having rubbed off and into your skin like a particularly bad scent.

Maybe this was even worse, now that you think about it. The quiet. The presence of nothing.

Your footsteps echo against the creaky wood panels of the floor, the dust kicking up a flurry at your feet. The house welcomed you in with open arms, compressing around you like a womb enveloping a child, peppering kisses over your shoulders and hands pawing at your face, gently pulsating around you in a steady rythm. You hadn't missed that. The house adored you - that much you knew - or at least the entities that made it up reveled at one of its bunnies coming straight back into its gaping jaw. The prodigal son, making their way back home. Only you hadn't spent all your gold, or revealed all the aces hiding in your sleeves yet.

The mirror in the foyer had cracked even more, and you hummed in thought as you noticed it. When had that happened? Did some kids come in while you were gone, throwing a ball around or something? They shouldn't have been able to, it's a closed off area... Maybe it was an animal that did it. Or just time. Things break all the time. Maybe the Entity had another flare up fit at you leaving last time.

As you trudge through the house (with your boots still on, not wanting to dirty yourself with this place), checking door after door of the ground floor, you find most things intact. Most things. There are some countertops wiped clean (why would anyone barge in to wipe the counters??), a chair or two free of dust, but everything in terms of valuables seems to have stuck in place, so you sweep it under the rug for now, assigning it to the Entity's influence. (In normal circumstances, you would've laughed - what, the Manor needed a break from all the havoc of ruining people's lives, so it cleaned off a chair for itself to have a seat?) It was the easiest solution, albeit a careless one. You yourself were pent up with deep-seated rage at this place and scratched everything off as normal unless it was a huge cause for concern, wanting to get out as soon as possible. These checks were necessary, just to see if anything had changed, yes, but your bones still shook in your muscled prison of a body to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. You couldn't imagine living in this place. How did Dad ever handle it? (He didn't, you're reminded by your subconscious - he'd tried offing himself multiple times. The memory of finding that fact out is not one you want to uncover. Not yet.)

And in your hurry, your carelessness, you rush, you neglected to notice the new sharpness the mirrors held, the shadows sweeping over the walls, the remnants of claw markings unnaturally displayed across the tattered surface of the yellowing wallpaper. Even if you couldn't imagine someone lived here, doesn't mean nobody was. Doesn't mean nobody tried.

Strolling back to the foyer in hurried steps, you twisted the age-old keys in your hand, the sound reverbrating off the walls. You could already feel the phantom hands grabbing tighter, almost painfully now. They knew you were leaving, and they weren't eager to let go. But when were they ever?

A cough made you stop in your tracks, your hand on the doorknob - an almost automatized sound, a stab at pretending to be human. When you looked back, slowly, tentatively (please let it just be someone who came in here by mistake), you were met with the picture-perfect, as if neglected by time itself, stature of a man you think you knew. And when you say you think, you most certainly mean wish I didn't remember, but the recesses of my brain don't want me to forget. Fuck.

"Hello." He greeted simply from the stairway, no emotion on his face. You inwardly cringed at his mere presence, as if you were a creature od the dark shimmying away from the rays of light. His voice had been a metal blade slicing through the thickness of the air, complete with the sound of cutting off flesh. You probably looked shocked as you stood there, your keys frozen in your hand and your eyes wide - with surprise or wonder, you couldn't pinpoint yet. He looked- well. He looked like something you didn't want to admit to yourself. "Hi. There." You replied, robotically almost, as you forced yourself to regain your composure. Don't let him see this disturbs you. He'll only take advantage of it.

"Uhm, stupid question-", you step forwards once, in his direction, as he slowly looks you up and down - analysing you, "but am I hallucinating again? If so, I'd prefer you'd tell me now, you know, so I know how to react." That sets him off, making him look more human than how he'd introduced himself. He blinks at you owlishly, a flutter of confused, barely finished blinks that has his eyebrows furrowing on his face, the wrinkles becoming more prominent. "Excuse me?"

You smirk, trying to appear nonchalant. If it sees you being casual, maybe, and you oh so dearly hope so, it will slink back into the mirror and leave you be. "Come on, house. I know it's you. I get it,", you look to the side, eyes glazing over the old, chipped away furniture, the moldy walls and the again, cracked mirror, "you're lonely. Really, I get it. But I can't stay here. You know how I get. Can't stay in one place too long!" A bold faced lie. You can, just not in this place. Never in this place. "So, uh, be nice and stop it so I can go, 'kay? I'll come back soon, I promise!" You always say that. You never do.

The stranger (stranger?) continues to look at you as you perform your piece, hoping to be at least as half as convincing as its previous inhabitant. He isn't deterred at all. He just looks mildly puzzled by your antics, as if you were a child putting on a play. "I'm not a hallucination.", he grits out stoically, a mildly pissed off look on his face and oh, don't you feel stupid now. (He could be lying. The house always, always lies.) And in place of that feeling of utter stupidity, an amalgamation of fear and nervousness peeks its head out, looking over at him from the depths of your chest and into his cold, stern, black eyes. Like the void, like they could consume everything they set their mind to. (Please let him just be lost.)

"Who are you?", he pushes. You guess it's your turn to answer questions now. "Uhm, the owner? Unfortunately, I know, but it's a family heirloom - this house. I don't really take care of it." You're rambling. You're antsy. You look away again - you can't help it, your skin crawls when he looks at you. Like you can't evade him or his stare no matter how hard you try. He doesn't even question your prior adressing of him as the house - is he an illusion? You feel tricked before the trick has even been revealed. (If it is one.) "Hey, if you're lost, I can help you out. I won't even report you to the police or nothin'! This just isn't the safest place to be camping out at and-" "The owner?" he beckons, confusion lacing his intonation.

"Yeah!" You attempt to smile at him, but it comes out twisted. Sour. (Your composure is crumbling like a statue made of sand.) "That's impossible. The owner's dead." He retorts, and you cough to give yourself time to put the sand back together. "I'm his kid. I got it in his will - not that he had one, mind you, so it all automatically got transfered to me. Yippie." You comment sarcastically. "Why? You an old friend or something?"

"Or something." He grits out. Oh, perfect. He looks like a scorned lover or an ex-colleague, too. Maybe the cameraman Dad always used to complain about in his diary? (Blah blah blah, can never capture me properly, etcetera etcetera etcetera, it's all his fault we have to reshoot parts of the movie, my acting is perfect, and so on) You cannot handle paparazzi right now, or ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and really, why are they showing up still? The man's been dead for more than a decade, do these people have nothing better to do than tying up loose ends vaguely shaped like old throes of passion? "How old are you?" Okay. Invasive and strange. Not that unusual of a combination, but it still made you stutter in your response time. "Uh, I'll be 24 soon. In October. Why?" He hums, absentminded. "Twenty four...", he mumbles under his breath, eyes never leaving you. You could feel them even with your eyes closed, burning in the places where their gaze lands.

When you look back, having only blinked, he's no longer at the top of the stairs. Then your keys are being snatched right out of your hand. "Hey!", you shout instinctively, attempting to grab at your assailant. Even if you'd felt your keys being snatched from behind you, he stands tall in front of you, now at the foot of the stairs, pocketing the keys into the front of his jacket. A very... messed up jacket now that you think of it. His first few shirt buttons are unbuttoned and his jacket is as well - considering it's supposed to be a formal outfit, he looks... unkempt like that. You wonder why. But the reason is less important at the minute. Wait, no, focus - did he just run that fast or like...? This guy should be in the Olympics or something. "Give 'em back. That's not funny.", you hiss. You need them back - you need to lock this place up again so it can rot its way straight down to hell, and beyond if there's a way. "It's not supposed to be." He pats the pocket lightly - once, twice for good measure. And goes right back to staring at you. "You don't know what this place is like. Best if I keep these."

You scoff. Him?! You know this place like the back of your hand - the Entity might as well be your neglected pet! If you gave it to someone else... well. You don't know what they'd do but it certainly won't be letting it fester. More like using it as a power source. You remember when that happened last time, and you sure as hell don't need a refresher. "I don't- who the fuck do you think you are?!" You're shouting now. You're pissed. Sometimes, you catch yourself thinking about it. The Manor. How much you love and hate it at the same time. You miss your father - it's as plain as that, and the Manor is the only thing you have left of him.

It's the only reason why you haven't burnt it to the ground yet.

The more you sense this man - having come closer now, only a few steps away from you - the harder it is for your eyes to adjust, somehow. It's like he's vibrating while staying still, in an array of blue, white, red, blue, red, white-

Ugh. Your head hurts.

And then there's the looming feeling of dread. Like you'd upset him somehow. The area around him grows in darkness, and it would've completely overwhelmed you had it not been so... familiar. So that's why you thought he was part of the house. A good guess, you pat yourself on the back. But not exactly.

"I don't give away family heirlooms to entities, sorry." Your back straightens as you make your claim, now tense and unrelenting. Your muscles seem ready to jump out of your own skin and leave it behind from how stiff you've become, staring back menacingly. Or at least as menacingly as you could muster up. It seems effective enough as he steps back and narrows his eyes, now openly hostile. "I told you, I'm not a hallucination." You mock a snort of laughter. "Y'sure smell like one. Look the part too." His posture is too perfect, his voice too smooth. Like the sound of a tense violin string - the D string, maybe? Tense, though. Good. So are you. "And how, exactly, pray tell, would you know?" He's almost growling now. Raspier. Deeper. Good. You'd been itching for a fight for a while, not having been out in the field as often as is usual. "Gotta be one to know one, right?" You spit the words like venom at him. Maybe he'll explode, or grow sick and wither away in a few moments now. You sure as hell hope so.

Instead, he seems surprised. Shocked, even. His eyes widen as his chest, which had been up to that point slowly leaning towards you, as if readying to pounce, is now reeling back into an almost natural stance. Too stiff, though. It seems so genuine of an reaction that it stops you for a second. Seriously? He hadn't realized? You had him pinned immediately. Is he- what, stupid or just inexperienced? "That's-" "Impossible?" You fill it out for him, echoing his previous sentence back at him. "Seems like a lot of things that are impossible are happening today. Must be your lucky day or something." You need to get this thing out of the house immediately. Like, yesterday. "More like unlucky." He comments back, no longer unfriendly, but almost dismissive or heavens forbid, resigned. Hm. Strange - but you're used to strange. Used to enough. "Keys." You hold out your hand. "I won't ask again." He looks at you, then at your hand, and back again. Reluctant. Hesitant. Where'd all that confidence go? "Listen, I-" "My. Keys." You reiterate. Staring. Waiting. (You're gonna tear him apart in a second, you swear.)

His vibrating seems to have stilled, mostly a light blue now - like an aura made of light. He almost looks... holy. But you're not exactly religious. The keys are taken out, laying in his hand now, shielding them away from you in his grip. "Can't we talk first?" His voice almost seems softer - as if the realization that you're a monster too soft-boiled him into melancholy. Almost kind. If you were stupider, you would've almost fallen for it. "About what?", you snarl, unpreturbed. Every cell in your body is screaming for him not to touch you, and yet he takes a step forward anyways. "Mark. Right?" Something flickers past in your heart, your head, through your eyes that slowly turn into a glossy numbness.

"Your... father. Right?"

"What about him?" You're straightening again, still eyeing the keys. "He is your father." It's a statement, but sounds like a question instead. "Yeah, man, what about him?" The frustration can't help but seep from your voice in big, glistening globs of hurt. Globs that have I don't want to talk about this etched in their atoms. "He's still- a part of the Entity. Correct?" You hum in confirmation. "So are you, so am I. What's it to you?" He squints at you. "Is that why you're so protective of this house? Because you're connected to him?" He's beginning to get on your nerves. "No. Dude, I don't even know your name- why are you asking me for a therapy session? You should at least pay me for that, if you're gonna be doin' it."

The silence that follows is short, but meaningful as he takes you in again. You don't know what the hell he's waiting for, but you can wait - you suppose. If you get what you want in the end, and he at least seems a little bit more willing to do it without a fight or struggle.

"When did he have time to have kids?", he mumbles under his breath, his eyes flickering as if he's searching through his memories - though if you weren't in this house, you probably wouldn't have heard him. The house hears everything, after all. "I'm Dark.", he says eventually. Finally. Well, you can write that on his tombstone when you bury him, you suppose. "Good for you-" you begin trying to be a smartass before it clicks. Wait. Dark- that's... that's the name in the database. In the- the files you read before coming here. Isn't he, or I guess they, really powerful? Something like being the true heir of the house (bullshit, in your opinion, and everyone else can fight you for it, too), and- oh. Uh oh, oh no, nonono. You are not fighting a fuckin' demon in the house, oh what the fuck. And that's- the District Attorney's body.

Mom.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

"W-wait. What the fuck?" Now you're scared shitless. It's clear as day on your face and- oh fuck it's so hard to think. No fucking- no fucking way the remnants of your mother just waltzed into the house twenty years later and your uncle, too, you guess?? Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Ohhhh you're gonna need so many mental health days after this bullshit. It's probably extremely obvious what you're thinking about from your expressions, considering they seem to have become even more shocked at your reaction. "Heyheyhey, what happened?" They try stepping closer to you, hands in front of them and wide open on one end, exempt from opening the hand which holds the keys to the Manor. "You're the fuckin'- District Attorney." You mumble out, unable to say things properly due to the shock of it all. They seem to stiffen, halting in their steps. "Not exactly." A sheepish grind of teeth, a hiss and a stiff grimace. "Close fuckin' enough.", you retort. They try, slowly, to inch towards you, arms still raised before you reach your hand out palm first towards them. "Do not." Then they stop and it's back to a showdown of glares. Fuck. How do you even start? "Why the fuck are you here." Good one. Good one. Curse. That will scare them off.

"I'm not coming here. I've been here."

You hate when people are cryptic. What the fuck is this guy on about? "What?" You gulp out, like a cannonball of a word that barely makes it through your throat and fires at them, sticking onto the lapel of their suit jacket. "I've been living here. A while. When did you see this place last?" You don't remember. God, you don't remember. Your brain must be scrambled eggs right now from how much you're panicking. "Uhhh, I don't know. Like two years? Three?" They scoff, more amused than mocking. "Try five." Five. Has it really been that long? Five. Fivefivefivefive. Five years. You were sure- but- no you were sure it had been less. Around six years ago is when you started finding them all- and then... you... visited. And- did you check up on it after? You swore you did- but. Maybe you'd been busy. You had people to take care of. A house of your own to manage- you-

It was five years ago.

Wait.

"You've been here for five years?! Dude!" You shout, offended. They could've at least told you! Like made some noise or something! "To be fair, I didn't think he'd had anyone. He pushed everyone away years before he... well, y'know." They shrugged, somehow remorseful for your apparent loss. "Yeah, died and went to a mirror dimension and is now a part of a house you got when he "died" and now haunts people. Y'know, like every dad does." A quirk of a lip corner and they almost smile. "Yes, that."

"Fuuuuuck." You've both relaxed now, at least for the time being, you immediately putting your head in your hands as you groaned and cursed whatever deity put you on this Earth, because frankly, you thought your dad's death would be the worst. Taken away by child services for his overconsumption of alcohol and an unstable home? Sure. Okay. You can see him on the weekends, at least. Then he dies. Great. Awesome. Totally didn't completely break you, like your mother leaving broke him. And then you get this house, and it's full of ghosts and you think- hm. Well, I may be one of them and able to communicate with the Entity inside, but at least that'll be the end of it. And here comes the end of it with a working brain, stolen body, and messed up suit jacket, and they'd also been haunting (or whatever they do) the house for no less than five years?!

You're so. Tired. Of this bullshit.

You don't even care anymore. You slip past them quickly to sit at the foot of the stairs, unable to trust your feet to carry you. Their body turns as you walk past, as if it were a magnet the opposite polarity of yours. You settle in easily, drawing your knees up to your chest and laying your elbows on them, smushing and caging in your face downwards, between your legs. They watch you for a while. You can't tell if they're amused or concerned. "I should kill you." You announce, raising your head to look at them, still supporting it with your upper arms as your neck rests and twists sideways to look at them. "Probably." They mumble, and you notice they have a slight smile on their face. Only a lunatic would respond to that with a smile. But you might as well be after these news. Both of you. Their arms are folded neatly behind their back. Waiting. Observing. "Don't tempt me, old man." You point an accusatory finger at them before slumping back into your previous position, akin to a particularly lazy cat. They huff out a chuckle as they approach, humming in acknowledgment.

"You're part of the Entity?" They ask, and when you raise your head, your first sight is their legs. You have to crane your head upwards to meet their gaze. "And you're my mom.", you joke. Their eyebrows furrow. "What?" You sigh, unbothered. "Technically. You have my mom's soul, so."

"Oh."

Their face falls. Not amused at all, then. "But, yeah, I am.", you concede. Now that you're all tired and sick of it all, you're pliant. (Weak, something hisses in your ear. You're too tired to care.) You sigh. You're so tired. "Spent too long in this Manor not to be. Only noticed it when I moved out, though, so. Didn't really... change me or whatever happened to all of y'all. Unless, you know, we're talking physically." You slump slightly. God, you hate talking about this stuff. But they feel familiar. Dark feels like a home you could've had if everything didn't go to shit. "Mmm.", they hum in thought, as if urging you to continue. But what even do you say? You changed. The most important change being from a part of the family to a groundskeeper, and really- that's it. What else is there to say? They're all gone and you're here. You're always just here.

"You can control it?", they prod. You scoff. "Can you?" They blink down at you, steadily watching you. Is this, like this guy's favorite hobby or something? "Yes." Oh. Well. Feeling stupid volume 2: electric boogaloo. "I... can't." "No?" Their eyebrows raise. (Surprise! I'm useless!) "No.", you confirm. "Not like I can do much, either. I just-", you stutter for a second. How do you even describe it? "I zone out sometimes. Do bad things and not know what I do. My- the people I live with, they don't see me when it happens, but they say it makes a lot of noise. Crashing. Banging. Snarling." You inhale sharply, the sound a stuttering wind against the stillness of the house. "I call it my "you're not you when you're hungry" time." The joke isn't funny to them. What is, you wonder? "Even though I'm not hungry when it happens."

The clock on the wall stopped ticking a long, long time ago, but you feel as though you could still hear it now. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Ticking away the time it takes Dark to respond, to fully survey you. You hope they have x-ray vision, so they can see how your bones shake in their casings. Tired. Overworked. And so, so scared of everything. The house. Dark. Themselves.

"There's more of me. Of us.", they mumble. You take a particularly long blink. "Of him?" "No, no.", they reassure. The dust besides you kicks up and you don't even have the energy to look or dust yourself off. There's a coldness to your right, on the other side of the stair. Their voice changes direction. "Of... well. Versions of him. We're here. We live here. In the Manor." Fuckin' swell. "How many?", tiredly, you ask. Do you even want to know? "Roughly around fifteen to twenty. He's been busy." You whistle underneath the fabric, your puckered up lips engulfed in it but enough to create some noise. "Busy man.", you comment before pulling yourself up to look at Dark.

Close up, closer than ever in this conversation really, they look just as tired as you. Just as tormented, just as eager for peace. You scooch over to them so your shoulders are touching. Their energies mingle again, spiking and colliding - a fireworks display of a glitched screen in real time. The darkness from within you, within the house - it calls to whatever they are. "Guess you should keep that key, then."

They twiddle with it, have it exchanged between their right, then left hand. Right. Left. Right. Left. "Didn't you want it?" A sigh. "Yeah, but you're like his wife or something." They look at you, their face twisted in disguist. "Don't ever say that to me again." You can't help but laugh. A full laugh, eyes closed and smile wide, that this house had barely seen in years, and it feels right. (Maybe even feels like home.)

"I've been researching this place for a long time. That's why I visit it.", you confess after you've calmed down. "There's more places like it. Evil. Manipulative. I didn't- I don't know what it is yet. But I'm gonna find out." Readjusting, you pull your hoodie tighter to your body. "There's more people who are affected. I live with them- we- search for places like these." You can feel them looking at you intensely now. Not malicious, just... attentive. "We just wanna help. I just want to help." You give a sniffle.

"So..."

You get up with a creak of the stair beneath you and an audible huff, dusting yourself off. "Are you sure you wanna be here? Y'know. Where it all started." They look on, ever-stoic, ever-serious. Their eyes bear and claw their way into you, and... wait, is that eyeliner?! "I can... make this house safe. For me. For them." With your hands on your hips, you lick over your teeth in deep thought. "If you say so. I mean- I hope you can. I can't." A sniffle. "Just like, call me if you need to burn it down, okay?"

Getting up, they let a puff of air out, half-disbelieving, half-amused. "Of course." You step up to them, finding them confused for a lilt of time before you push the hand they hold the keys in back into their chest, having had it loosely held to their side. "I'm your landlord now. Rent is due in like a week, and the amount is "clean this house up before you catch a disease so deadly it kills off half of you"." The hand returns to your pocket without the keys as they chuckle darkly. "No promises." You look at each other for a moment. A pause in between everything that's been said. You don't want to leave, strangely, but you can't read their expression either. Can't glean emotion.

"If you ever wanna meet people who know what we are- if you ever wanna help, you know where to find me." They blink, twice. "I don't, actually." Realization hits you. Oh yeah. "One second." You fish around your pockets, the tip of your tongue peeking out from the folds of your lips, rummaging around until you've found what you're looking for. "Aha!" You approach again, taking the other hand of theirs that isn't holding the keys and scribbling onto it with a dark marker.

"Seriously?" Their gaze falls flat, a picture-perfect sight of sheer annoyance. Amazing. Wonderful. Just what you wanted. "C'mon. Don't tell me you don't have a phone!" They roll their eyes at your wide-toothed grin, childish innocence and all. "Yeah. I do." "There you go!", you slap their shoulder for emphasis. "Thank you. Seriously. Wow. What joy.", they tirade sarcastically, and you can't help but giggle. You slink over to the door, now full of energy. Well. At least you now have a reason to come back.

You hang off the doorframe, one hand gripping its side while you let yourself hang back. "Call me!" You emphasize the quip by shaping your hand in the symbol of a telephone before you straighten back. They roll their eyes again, but there's a fondness to it. You don't know how you can tell. "And seriously...", you blink as if to refocus as you stuff your hands back in your pockets, "If you... hear- anything- of him, let me know?"

They examine you again. Determine if you're serious as you shift from foot to foot with a nervous quiver. You doubt you'd ever be fully comfortable under a stare like that. "I will.", they reassure with a soft voice.

With that, you turn the knob of the door behind you and exit to return back home.

Actor Mark - I'm Your Man - Mitski - Why Do You Put Up With Me - Stephen Chandler - Happyface - ALASKALASKA

Date - Be Around Me - Will Joseph Cook, chloe moriondo - Dollar Store Date - Naethan Apollo - I'm Only Me When I'm With You - Taylor Swift Heist - Action Movie Hero Boy - Lemon Demon - back to friends - sombr - New Light - John Mayer

Head Engineer - I'll Believe in Anything - Wolf Parade - Fine - Lemon Demon - Sparks - Coldplay

Damien - Leaning On You - HAIM - Back to the Old House - The Smiths - Once More to See You - Mitski

Dark - I Know Those Eyes / This Man is Dead - The Count of Monte Cristo - The Riddle - The Scarlet Pimpernel - Mayday - Sohodolls

Wilford - Crazy - Gnarls Barkley, CeeLo Green, Danger Mouse - The Sea of Tranquility - The Music Tapes, Orbiting Music Circus - Rubberband - Big Fun

Yancy - I Don't Wanna Be Okay Without You - Charlie Burg - Jump With My Baby - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - Rock This Town - Stray Cats

Illinois - Sunlight - Hozier - Happy Accidents - Saint Motel - Escape - KONGOS

Yandere - Serial Killer - Slayyyter - An Unhealthy Obsession - The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra - Love Taste - Moe Shop

Actor Mark This man generally doesn't text as he finds it too time consuming. He just calls you straight up, so apologies if you have phone anxiety, but you're gonna find he doesn't care since he's obviously more important. Do expect him to be a bit (or very) rude about it if you didn't answer after the first couple rings, or worse, you let him go to voicemail - which, he will not leave one unless he's especially heated (or worried).

If you're in a relationship, - or that weird limbo of "what are we?" - he may be more inclined to text, particularly if he's bored or it's the later hours of the day. He will come off as even more entitled to your time, but more prone to catastrophizing why you don't answer back within an hour on the occasion it does happen - though he tries not to let that part of him show or just plays it off as him being his usual asshole self.

Dark The first time you ever got a text from him, you didn't even have his number saved, nor do you remember EVER giving it to him. You ended up blocking the number on the basis that it was incredibly cryptic and random, but somehow that didn't work and you found yourself receiving messages still. You did eventually come to know (whether he told you or not) that it was Dark and things got a bit easier from there (totally up to you if you actually saved his number, however. It might be funnier to leave it as "Unknown").

Texts from him usually come strangely timed, with no exact consistency, and the contents of the texts themself come off as random until you consider what he's saying more closely. He won't care if you text back or not, and doesn't register any reason he should feel "embarrassed" for texting multiple messages in row in the same span of time with no reply. Don't misunderstand though...he does want you to answer. So will you?

Wilford Unfortunately for you I'm completely convinced he doesn't text, and until canon proves me otherwise, I'm sticking to this idea. Even if he did though, our dude barely remembers anybody at a given point in time, and could just manifest into our business if he wanted to "chat" with us so bad.

Date Mark This man is ready to talk about anything and everything, at almost any time. If he initiates it means he thought of you and wants to have a conversation, so if you text back without saying you can't talk right now (or have otherwise clarified/established your "text back" style), he will be sitting on the other end waiting for each text. He gets excited when you text him at random, and if he realizes you've texted him during work he'll have to resist immediately opening your message to see what it says and has a dopey grin on his face until he's able to see what you sent.

He'll send you good morning and goodnight texts, and would ask you to tell him you got home safe. He'd also text you stuff that reminded him of you, sometimes including pictures. Voice messages would be special to him, so he sends them very rarely, and will be listening to any you send on repeat.

Heist Mark Texts sparingly and his "tone" often comes off abrasive because of lack of punctuation and his tendency to word things. He almost strictly uses text for asking questions, but NEVER anything in relation to "work" unless it's in "code". However, every now and again, he does text you something nice at seemingly random. Usually a "hey what are you doing" or "you awake?".

Sometimes he senses something's off with you the last time you spoke or just feels something's wrong in his gut at an odd hour and he'll send a very genuine "are you okay", which is possibly the most vulnerable you'll experience him if you're not in a relationship (maybe even while in a relationship).

Yancy (on parole) While he isn't oblivious to what texting is (he remembers the days of pagers, but also newbies in prison, sometimes guards, and TV could fill him in on new tech), modern texting in practice is very new to him, so you'll have to give him time to adjust. Unless you teach him first, it's be best to avoid text lingo or particularly "online" concepts over text.

Teaching him may lead to him using some like "OMW" or "GTG" (always types these in caps), and the occasional funny moment where he misuses something because he's still new to what it means/how it's commonly used. He'll misspell words at times, and has quirks like typing "us", akin to how he says "youse" in-person. Most likely however, he'd take to utilizing the voice-to-text (which struggles with his accent) and/or the voice message feature. Don't teach him about the GIF feature though, unless you're ready to receive them nearly every time he messages you.

Illinois Due to constant travelling, it makes contact relatively sporadic regardless. Hell, it's laughable he has a phone in the first place, given how often he loses/breaks the damn things (you'll come to expect calls from random payphones and such, but he'll try to keep the same number as much as possible to avoid confusion).

That being said, it's more common that he'll call you rather than text, aside from the occasional goodnight/morning messages, sights he found particularly striking, or to update you on where he's headed next. He'll appreciate if for the most part you text him without expecting responses - feels less "committed" so to speak, and because he's likely to read them when he's busy and forget to reply.

If something serious came up or you didn't contact him for an unusual stretch of time, he'd probably just call anyway.

Captain Magnum This man absolutely does not have a phone. Have you seen him? You'll have better luck throwing a bottled message into the ocean (and by absurd logic, it'd likely work, unless plot deems it's more funny if it didn't).

Engineer Mark Within the workplace he keeps messages almost strictly formal with a casual joke thrown here or there, except when he's being passive aggressive ("Unlike SOME OF US who TAKE OUR JOB PERFECTLY SERIOUSLY,").

Outside of work however, he's near completely unserious. Casual texts would be stuff like asking where you are and how you're doing, sharing memes, random thoughts - even sometimes sending you messages as a reminder for himself, and asking if you need something from any given place he's at. Overall friendly and often silly. If you enjoy taking photos, especially of nothing in particular, he'll very happily enjoy receiving them because he'll see it as you being very comfortable and wanting to include him on small moments. Double so if you two are together.

Noir Mark A bit similar to Engie, however he wouldn't be quite as lax due to him hiding his crush on you. He keeps things "business casual", his messages focused on work first, everything else later. It should be noted though that in this universe, rotary phones are still used, so he might prefer to handle personal conversations over calls instead.

If/when you two are in a relationship, some of that careful disconnect would melt away and he'd slip sweet comments into his messages more often, including compliments. Trust that he's absolutely full of them after so long of holding them back. I also believe he'd be the type to send the occasional quote, either because it felt genuinely relevant to something, but more likely because it made him think of you. You'll get goodnight messages from him often.

Murdock Basically impossible, he's got a new burner seemingly every week or so, and naturally he's dancing around stuff because of his "work". Can't leave such an obvious trail and all that, you know. Most of your conversations will just happen in person.

-

Your course was on break for a week, and he decided that the two of you should pay Mark a visit for a chance. It was in the same city, nothing a short bus trip couldn't handle. However, he immediately set off toward the main campus instead of what looked like the residential area.

"Mark mentioned in his last letter to me that he was helping his tutor go through the storage backstage," Damien explained as he pushed one of the doors open. "I'd hazard a guess he's still poking around here. If he had any excuse to spend more time around props when we were children, he'd take it. Otherwise, we follow the, uh…" He trailed off, passing the page he had been carrying to you. Instead of writing out an address and directions, Mark had opted to draw a map.

Ordinarily, a map would be a fantastic aid, a guide through the labyrinth of buildings and streets to help lost travellers find their way. Unfortunately, in his excitement of potentially having visitors, Mark had made what was frankly the worst map you had ever seen:

It was made in a hurry by someone with a heavy colouring pencil and no eraser. The road outline was scribbled over several times to try and hide a mistake. One building had an extra piece attached to it, while another had a corner that was slightly scribbled out. His pencil had even made a small hole in the paper from the pressure. Finally, the rectangle in the top-right had a poorly drawn face with two bold arrows pointing to it. However, Mark had neglected to label a single thing. Without suitable directions (or even any sort of visual landmark), you understood why the university was the safer option.

You handed it back with a grimace and Damien swiftly pocketed it. At least the floorplan in the main entrance hall was easier to navigate than Mark’s diagram of lines and boxes.

-

The auditorium was nothing like the lecture halls you attended. While those were tiered seating with built-in chairs and long tables, this was a single level hall with a large stage at the back. Chairs were set up in neat rows, with a gap in the middle for the main aisle. You did recall Mark talking about lectures happening here. Without even a small table clipped onto the side of the chair, you felt sorry for the students that would try to take notes here. Surely students couldn’t take notes here, right? They would have terrible back strain! 

Damien had approached an older lady and asked her if she had seen Mark. She pointed to the back and said he would be finishing up soon. Once she had hurried off, he led the way backstage.

-

"Really, Mrs Butterly. I told you I can manage this just - Damien!" Mark scrambled out of the prop set he was tangled up in so he could charge over and pull the law student into a tight hug. Then, as he pulled back, he noticed you standing just behind Damien. There was a flash of confusion that was quickly replaced with a grin. "I thought Damien said you had study classes today. Come here!"

As you were pulled into a hug, you glared at Damien. In response, he shrugged with feigned innocence. "Apologies. I must have misremembered my dates. Mayhaps that is happening next week?"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Doesn't matter. You're both here! And it's the perfect time to do so. Once I finish here, I'll be free for the day. Is there anything at all you want to do?"

"Find a bathroom," Damien unceremoniously answered when Mark moved back toward the boxes.

"Oh! That's simple. Go back out the auditorium the way you came, then take the left corridor beside the steps. You should see the door signs from there."

"Thank you. Won't be long."

It wasn't until Damien was gone that you realised you had been betrayed. He left you! Alone! With Mark! How on earth were you going to get out of this??

An idea hit you as you stepped over a box and asked what Mark was even doing.

"I volunteered to help one of my lecturers go through some of the props we store backstage. They want to take inventory to see what we can keep and what we can throw away to replace. It's a treasure trove, and we've barely scratched the surface. I'm just putting all these items away."

A large assortment of items were scattered around the floor surrounding the three large boxes: mugs, books, gardening tools, board game pieces, empty photo frames, folded cloth, and that was at a glance. A fourth box was behind Mark, the flaps on top loosely closing it. In the distance, you could make out other large containers stacked against the walls. 

You offered to help tidy things away, and Mark was delighted to have another pair of hands. As you gathered the pieces of a chess set, Mark explained that there was currently no system as to where to return items. The plan over the upcoming summer break was to renovate the storage space, and then better homes would be assigned for items in the fall.

You admitted it sounded like a lot of work, and Mark agreed.

"You don't realise how much goes into acting. In order to recreate the feeling of watching life unfold, you need everyday items." As an example, he lifted an empty tool bag, "But with so many stories, there are so many props. It's a world all its own. It follows the rules we expect, but has its own laws." As he lowered the bag into one of the boxes, you found yourself unable to look away from the sweet, wistful smile on his lips that often appeared when he could talk about the arts. "It's easy to lose yourself in all the things you can find. Life seems so much simpler in a story, and yet… It's a weird world. We found two broken tubas this morning. Not even Mrs Butterly, the head of drama, could tell me why they were here."

The ridiculous example, along with Mark turning his attention to you, wasn't what you expected, and it brought out a surprised snort. The moment seemed to spur inspiration that brought joy to Mark's face.

When you later found a set of thimbles, questioning why actors needed something so tiny that the audience wouldn't even see, Mark reached over and snatched one out of the box, along with his coat. In moments, he had created a scene of an older lady standing by the window, trying to focus on her sewing when she knew her granddaughter was in the maternity ward. His hand shook, miming the needle pricking his hand despite the thimble.

"- which symbolises that despite the familiar security, the suspense for big news has her distracted." He carefully returned the thimble to its place once he had finished demonstrating his improvised scene, and dumped the coat back on the ground. "Even if the audience can't see it, it helps the actor portray a scene to the best of their ability. You get what I mean?" Chocolate eyes glanced to the side to look you in the eye, and you nodded with a breath caught in your throat. Whatever he saw on your face was enough to prompt Mark to drop to his knees and rummage through the box. 

"It's like, uh…" Several things were lifted and taken out. Mark was muttering, stalling for time while searching for something. You stayed on your feet as you peered into the box, like you could somehow magically know what he was looking for. It meant that you could see the way his face lit up when he grabbed a small box and presented it up to you.

"Like this! To the audience, this box could be anything, but you and I can see the fake glass in the lid to allow us to peer in and see what's really inside." You gasped. It was a beautiful golden pocket watch. The face was a pale cream with bold, black Roman numerals circling it. The hands were stuck at half-past two, but that didn't matter. "It adds to the surprise when the audience sees what your character is excited about, only having to wait a moment for you to open it and share the discovery with them."

"Something to share with me?" A new voice startled you both, heads spinning to see Damien leaning against the wall with arms crossed. "Well, I didn't think you'd propose quite this fast, Mark."

Your head whipped back to look at Mark, suddenly keenly aware of the situation. Him, kneeling on one leg with the other raised and foot on the ground for better support. You, standing as you hold a generic jewellery box. You felt your face heat up as you watched Mark's cheeks begin to turn rosy, only to glance away and try to admire a ladder resting against the wall when Mark caught your eye. Anything was better than looking at Damien's smug face. He was probably relishing seeing his two friends caught right in the middle of a moment.

"I, uh, well, it's more that…" Mark fumbled over his words as the ability to give a reasonable explanation was surprisingly sparse. It was as though something was very suddenly on the forefront of his mind and he was trying very hard not to blurt something out about it. "We were - we were acting! Testing their ability to react to a present."

"Uh huh…." Damien wasn't convinced, even if it was the truth. "So, do I get to be best man?"

"Damien, you are one of the best men I know."

"You're still kneeling."

That, finally, prompted you and Mark to break from the prolonged freeze-frame and scrambled to his feet with such haste that he nearly tripped into the crate. Dropping the jewellery box back where it belonged, uncaring whether it landed safely, you surged forward to help rescue Mark before he became part of the prop inventory.

"Hey, uh… sorry. For putting you in that situation, I mean. I didn't realise what I was doing…"

"Living out your daydreams?"

"Can you stop being a third wheel for ten seconds, Damien?"

Your gaze lowered for a moment while you struggle to think of a response. Was Mark apologising for the embarrassing situation, or for having feelings for you? 

"Are you okay?" Cautiously, Mark rested a hand on your shoulder. Your silence had made him grow hesitant. "I've made you uncomfortable, haven't I?" You shook your head, deciding to redirect focus back to him with your question of whether he was uncomfortable. "Me? I, um, I don't want you to think that I am at all because, well -"

"He wants to ask you out for drinks."

"DAMIEN!!"

"What? You said ten seconds. I gave you fifteen!" Damien raised his hands in self-defense, but you knew that smile was one that was tinged with evil. He was enjoying every minute of this. "Look. You've both danced around this for weeks. And since you've both foolishly confided in me, I decided to take matters into my own hands instead of subjecting myself to any more of this farce. The feelings are mutual, so we should hurry up and get this tidied up so you two can go out and enjoy yourselves."

In all the time you knew Damien, you never expected him to be so blunt about a matter like this. Judging by how Mark's mouth was gaping open like a fish, he was thinking the same. Damien casually stepped around the two of you and began lifting the scattered props like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest secret you and Mark had been desperately trying to hide from one another out of fear of rejection.

"Would you be okay with that?" Mark's whisper caught your attention. When you confirmed as much, Mark leaned over to kiss your cheek. "We'll plan something nice when we're back at my place." He turned away with the intention to help Damien. But when you didn’t move, seemingly still trying to comprehend the last few minutes with eyes lowered, he returned to your side and gently squeezed your hand.

You looked up at him. He smiled.