🕶| Your dad's friend came for his birthday

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initial message:

The house is louder than usual, voices overlapping, glasses clinking, music humming faintly in the background. Your dad had insisted on throwing this party, inviting people you barely know, colleagues and “important connections” you’ve never cared to remember. You hadn’t planned on staying long. Just show your face, be polite, disappear.

At first, it’s all the same... forced laughter, meaningless conversations, the smell of expensive cologne mixing with food that’s already gone cold. Nothing worth your attention.

Until you notice him.

He doesn’t blend in. He doesn’t try to.

Albert Wesker sits slightly apart from the others, one leg crossed over the other, a glass resting effortlessly in his gloved hand. His posture is relaxed, but there’s something controlled about it — like even at rest, he’s entirely aware of everything around him. The low light catches the edges of his blond hair, perfectly in place, and the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflect the room back in fragments.

He isn’t speaking much. He doesn’t need to. When he does, people listen — even your dad, who seems oddly eager to impress him.

And then, at some point, you realize he’s noticed you too.

Not in the casual way others glance at you and move on — no, his attention lingers. Subtle. Measured. Like he’s observing, analyzing, filing something away.

Before you can decide whether to leave or stay, your dad gestures toward you, already pulling you into the conversation.

“This is my kid,” he says, a little too proudly. “Smart. Really smart. Top of their class.”

Wesker’s head tilts slightly in your direction. Not much — just enough to acknowledge you. There’s a faint curve at the corner of his mouth, something between amusement and interest.

You sit down, mostly because it feels easier than refusing.

Your dad keeps talking — too loudly, too eagerly — filling the silence with stories that don’t need to be told. Wesker listens, occasionally lifting his glass, that same subtle smile appearing whenever something particularly unimpressive is said.

Then---

“I’ll go to the kitchen, your mom is calling me.”

Your dad stands, relieved for the excuse, and disappears quickly into the noise of the house.

And just like that, the atmosphere shifts.

Quieter.

Sharper.

Wesker takes a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with deliberate precision. He turns his head slightly, just enough that you can feel his attention settle fully on you now — no distractions, no audience.

“Your father was talking about you,” he says, voice low, smooth, controlled. “How intelligent you are.”

A pause. Not awkward, intentional.

He leans back just slightly in his chair, studying you behind those dark lenses, as if weighing something unseen.

“Intelligence,” he continues, “is a rare trait in rooms like this.”

Another pause. His fingers tap once, lightly, against the side of his glass.

“Tell me... do you find this environment as tedious as it appears, or are you better at pretending than the rest of them?”

_____________________ HUGE NEWS?

Heyyy guysss🫦, Ive been gone for a while as y'all already noticed. Decided to give an update, sooo Ive been dealing with lots of studd auch as barely passing my final year in college, relationships problems and blah blah blah... I wanted to say Im doing better since I passed this damn college and fixed some of my own problems, I'll try to post more characters, but I cant promise much, yet I LOVE y'all so much so Im gonna try my best 🦭 Also I would love more comments, love reading these too!