#I may be young and new and polite and soft-spoken | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rainythefox · 7 months

Text

After Midnight

Sequel to Nightfall - AO3 Link

Summary: Three months after her near-death entanglement with Albert Wesker, Claire Redfield remains fettered to him as both lover and prisoner. As such, he once again pulls her into his dark games of power and control. Adamant at having her all to himself, Wesker's hold on her tightens as he pulls them both towards an unsatiable holy grail. But this is to be just the beginning of what would become an absolute nightmare...

Claire/Wesker, Chris/Jill, slight Claire/Leon and Ada/Leon. (also big focus on Wesker and William's friendship and past). Pre-RE1- Code Veronica time frame.

Chapter 1: Behind Blue Eyes

November 4th, 1971…

“The world needed your mother. She was essential. To modern science. To the future. Not you. You are disposable. An expedient…no, an anathema upon this world.”

His father’s last words to him repeated in his head, again and again.

Then he was left behind at this strange facility with all the white coats.

That was after spending his birthday two days ago flying across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States.

Chicago, he recalled. That’s where he was. A research facility in Chicago. His father had spoken with the man in charge here…something about compensation for his “participation”. Anything to get that funding he always talked about for his research…

The doctors here poked and prodded him. Drew a lot of blood. Ran numerous tests. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

The young boy sat on an examination table in a small white-walled room for what felt like hours, the lights irradiant, just like the rooms he had often found himself in back home. The brightness hurt his eyes. He winced and squeezed his blue eyes shut. If he didn’t, he felt he would go blind.

He didn’t bother checking the door. He knew it would be locked. Everything in his life was controlled. When he could eat, when he could sleep, when he could leave. Isolated. All alone. Although that wasn’t anything new. He had always felt this way. His father abandoned him years ago, even if he had seen him every day of his life up until now.

Anathema…anathema, he thought over and over. He knew the word. A curse. Abomination. Something consigned for sacrificial offering and destruction.

The door opened. Instead of the usual apathy that accompanied him, always knowing it to be his father, a fleeting anxiety passed through him as two strangers entered.

One was the man in charge here his father had spoken to for “compensation”. He was quite important, a lord he’d overheard, but the boy knew nothing of who he was. The other man was a doctor and seemed to be friends with the lord. They both looked to be in their late 40s, although it was just a guess.

The lord wore a proud, triumphant smile, looking the boy over as though he was a prize of sorts.

“Hello, Albert,” he greeted politely, kneeling beside the boy. “It’s an honor to finally meet your acquaintance. I am a longstanding colleague of your father, Andric. My name is Lord Ozwell Spencer, but you may call me Ozwell.”

The lord extended his hand. Albert stared at it. Clean, soft skin. No scars. No calluses. There was a big ring with a familiar crest on its face. It made his head hurt as he tried to recall where he’d seen it. They had never met before, but the boy felt this man somehow knew all about him. He didn’t take the offered palm. The smile was camouflage, the handshake a venomous bite.

Ozwell’s British accent carried a mix of elegance and power. It was more evident than Albert’s father’s accent, which had lost much of its original Germanic cadence from working in England.

The lord didn’t seem displeased when Albert didn't take his hand. He softly chuckled, his eyes still not leaving the boy. “Strong, silent type, I see. I like that in a young man.” He motioned to Albert’s face. "Did you get into a fight at school?”

He was so used to it that Albert had forgotten all about it. “My father never appreciated me challenging him.” Albert glared at the lord. “Tell me, did my father get his just compensation for dropping me at this hellhole?”

Ozwell glanced back at the doctor with a pleased smirk. His friend didn’t smile back, looking more surprised than anything, and scribbled on his clipboard.

“I assure you, young man, that ‘compensation’ was for something else…something before you were born that I owed him. His research is valuable to my company. And so we thought it best I take you in for a bit so he could work away on a very important enterprise.”

Why did adults always lie? Did they think him gullible?

“Something tells me you aren’t so heartbroken over it,” Ozwell said softly, offering the boy a friendly, reassuring smile. “Trust me, you’ll be far happier here. My dear friend Dr. Hensley will just run a few more tests to make sure you are in good health, and then we can get you situated, alright?”

Albert didn’t bother nodding or answering. He didn’t have a choice. They escorted him through the bright, winding hallways of the medical facility. His head hurt. He spotted other children here but never crossed paths with them.

“Are you alright, Albert?” Ozwell asked.

“The lights hurt my eyes.”

The lord slowly nodded, seemingly logging it away with a quick side glance at Dr. Hensely.

When they got to their destination, it wasn’t another patient room, it was a fully functioning laboratory, similar to his father’s. They took him into the back where Dr. Hensley carefully performed a set of tests, including drawing more blood. Afterwards, he was left alone so they could talk in the room next door.

Albert hopped down from his seat and padded over to the cracked door to eavesdrop.

“I told you he was a beautiful specimen, didn’t I?” Ozwell stated. “I’m eager to see him as an adult after the indoctrination and training. He will be the perfect candidate for the next evolution of my project. Tell me the results you’ve received.”

“He’s in impeccable health, my Lord,” Dr. Hensley answered. “He’s developing how we had anticipated and his new genetic screening results are what you were hoping for.”

“Perfect to pair with Alex in the future, then?”

Alex? His sister he’d recently found out about? Pair with her how?

“Without a doubt. However, I am concerned with his lack of socialization and interpersonal skills.”

“He was raised that way on purpose. Don’t worry, he’ll gain those with James.” The lord paused, thinking, and then asked, “Was the light sensitivity listed before on his genetics? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Dr. Hensely shook his head. “No, but it’s a common condition when breeding for the Aryan characteristics that you desire. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Does he remember anything outside of Andric?”

“He does recall the boarding school with the other Wesker children, but not enough that concerns me. The mind manipulation and synthetic memories are solid. If we continue doing what we are doing, he will never remember it all on his own.”

What?!

“Excellent,” Ozwell praised. “Start the next process immediately. I’m leaving for home to meet with Lord Ashford, Lord Henry, and Lord Beardsley tomorrow. James has already been informed and has prepared for Albert to stay with him. Just make sure to wipe his memories of the last few days and reprogram him before handing him over.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

“And I mean it, Theodore. The utmost care and diligence in handling Albert. His value is beyond estimation. He is one of the most important assets of our future.”

Asset? His father had called him the opposite…yet the same, gut-churning feeling came from the word. The same bad taste in his mouth as though he was just something to be used. A tool, a weapon, but in the end, thrown away.

Panicking, the boy raced to the door, knowing full well it would be locked. He turned the knob and tugged on it anyway. I have to get out of here!

It didn't budge. Trapped like always.

He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want his mind manipulated. He didn’t want to be controlled. Ruled. If only he was stronger…

What had he done to deserve this? His father’s voice played in his head, blaming him for his mother’s death, day after day after day. Was it that? He didn’t mean for it to happen!

Albert moved away from the door when Ozwell and Dr. Hensely emerged from the back room. The boy pretended to be interested in the x-rays on the wall, feigning composure.

“Well, Albert, my boy,” the lord sighed, the same creepy smile and watchful eyes on him, “I must take my leave. I have important duties to attend. Dr. Hensely will take good care of you. Please behave for him. I'll see you soon.”

Albert stayed silent, a growing knot of disgust and hatred twisting in his stomach. He thinks I belong to him. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone!

After Ozwell left, Dr. Hensely patted the examination table with a warm smile. “Okay, buddy. Just one shot and you’re good to go! I’m sure you’re ready to get out of here. We have a nice room and meal ready for you.”

Albert didn’t move. It came rushing back to him. The shot wasn’t an immunization of any sort. It was to put him to sleep. Then he wouldn’t remember when he awoke.

They’ve done this to me before…multiple times. He couldn’t recall how many. It was all too fuzzy. His head pounded.

Albert shook his head. “No.”

Dr. Hensely was surprised by his answer, putting his clipboard down and rubbing the back of his head. “Oh come now, Albert. Surely a strong, brave young man such as yourself isn’t afraid of a little immunity boost?”

“Liar,” Albert hissed. “It's anesthesia. You want to knock me out and make it so I don’t remember.”

“W-What? No! That’s absurd! I’m only here to help you.”

The boy refused to move, glaring at the doctor.

Dr. Hensely sighed. “Look boy, you’re doing this whether you want to or not. It’s out of your control. Either you come over here willingly or I have thirty employees outside this room that will hold you down. You wouldn't want another blackeye, would you? So which one is it?”

Albert kept his challenging gaze, one fist balled, his chest a tight knot. No choice. No control. They controlled him. They did own him.

Never breaking eye contact, Albert slowly approached the doctor and sat on the examination table. Dr. Hensely, tense and agitated, let out a deep breath and picked up the syringe.

“Get used to the fact that you will never be in control, kid. That’s how it is here. I’m sorry.”

You will be sorry…

He had to remember. No matter what. He couldn’t let them do this to him…again.

Dr. Hensely leaned in and injected Albert’s arm with the drug. The boy winced, glaring at the doctor in growing hatred…until he snatched up a scalpel on the nearby tool tray, and stabbed it into Hensley’s jugular vein.

Blood sprayed all over Albert just as the world started to spin. Dr. Hensely crashed backwards onto the floor with an agonized cry, gripping his throat.

Just before the world went black, Dr. Hensely bled out all over the floor in front of him. He heard the gurgled curses, felt the warm blood that drenched him, tasted it in his mouth. None of those things compared to the satisfying rush of power and victory he felt in that moment. He had overthrown a ruler. He could conquer them. He would conquer them all.

He should’ve done it to his father, but it was a start. They would not be able to suppress his awakening forever. One day the blinders would be removed and he would remember…and then everyone would be sorry.

The blue eyes, astute and austere, burned into his very soul, seemingly reading his deepest, darkest thoughts. The smile, proud and valiant, hid depravity within an invisible mask of dignity and power.

He couldn’t understand this feeling of being revolted by this man, yet, concurrently, being drawn to him.

“Albert?”

Albert looked away from the eerie oil painting of Lord Ozwell E. Spencer, not realizing he had lost himself in thought under the sharp gaze. He glanced up at Dr. James Marcus…his new guardian. The man was in his fifties with graying brown hair and wore a brown suit. Composed and shrewd, he was a bit harder to read compared to most adults for Albert. He still didn’t know what to think about his new guardian, but for better or for worse, the boy was stuck with him. For now.

It had been a long week. His father had dropped him off here in the States to live with Dr. Marcus, although he couldn’t remember much of the trip or the days after. Has jet lag affected me this acutely before? James had briefly shown him around the large mansion that belonged to Ozwell, before proceeding to the Umbrella Executive Training School. Apparently, James resided here in his laboratory, with his own living quarters, which is where Albert would mostly be staying. Soon, he would be attending the school as well.

James approached Albert when he didn’t move, he himself looking upon the portrait.

“My dear old friend,” James said with a wry smile. “He’s done so much for me…he will do a lot for you as well, Albert. Just remember he is the same as the Snake in the Garden of Eden. Watch his tongue…and certainly watch his bite.”

Albert wasn’t religious by any means, but he knew the stories. “You attribute your friend to the Devil?”

James smirked down at him, delighted. “Better to acknowledge you’re friends with the Devil than to deny it. Come along. There’s someone you need to meet.”

Albert hesitated, his eyes lowering to the floor. His polished shoes matched the equally polished floors of the school. His head hurt so bad. He tried to remember what happened before coming here, but it was all a haze. He recalled his father on the plane. He had said something to him before leaving. He just couldn’t remember what. Ozwell had told him his accommodations were temporary before handing him over to James, but this didn’t feel temporary.

“My father isn’t coming back for me…is he?”

James paused, frowning. He considered his next words. “No. He got what he wanted out of you. And in time, so will Ozwell and myself. But no worries, my boy. You are where you are meant to be. Trust me. In time, you will make them all pay. I’ll show you how.”

What an interesting response from an adult. Albert then followed him closer than he had on the whole tour. James led them to his living quarters nestled adjacent to the laboratory of the training school. It was a nice-sized apartment, modern and clean…a little more room than what Albert and his father were accustomed to.

“William, come out here,” James called. “There’s someone here you need to meet.”

Albert looked around the living room. Spacious. Hardwood floors. Brand new furniture. Paintings and photos adorning the walls. It hardly looked lived in. There was a wall dedicated to a trip to Africa and James’ doctorates. He settled on an intriguing photograph full of beautiful red and gold flowers with peculiar shaped petals, nothing like he had ever seen before.

Soft footsteps rushed into the living room. When Albert turned around, he was surprised to see another boy, having expected William to be an adult. The boy was smaller than him, maybe a year or two younger, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, just like him.

William looked just as surprised to see Albert as he was to see him, but the shock quickly turned into a big, toothy grin and he nearly hopped over to Albert in excitement.

“No way! You got me a brother?!”

“William, settle down. I don’t care what you call yourselves. Just get along. William this is Albert, Albert this is William. You’ll be roommates so get used to each other. I have to make a phone call.”

He was never informed there would be someone else while living with James, let alone someone his age.

Albert tensed and moved away when William eased closer with hushed excitement, especially now since it was only them. Albert had never mingled with other kids before and was unsure of the formalities.

“Nice to meet you, Albert! Can I call you Bert? Oooh, how about Al? I like Al!”

“No. Just Albert,” he grumpily answered, already irritated with the other boy’s whimsical behavior.

“I like your accent Al, are you not from the U.S.? You’ll like it here. James is alright, I guess, but the school is amazing! I’m the youngest child prodigy to be studying under Umbrella!”

This boy was a child prodigy as well? Albert looked him over skeptically. He decided to move away, giving into instinct instead of attempting conversation. He had no clue how to handle this interaction.

William followed, his excitement waning only slightly, instead a mild diffidence forming. “So uh, where are you from?”

“Not here.”

“What happened to your family?”

Albert clenched his jaw. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” William reassured. “I’m an orphan too. It’s why I’m with James. Been here for about a year. I never knew my parents.”

When Albert didn’t answer, William gasped and ran around to block his path.

“Wait a minute! Are you a prodigy too? No wonder James took you in! Oh, this is exciting! Finally, some competition! We could test each other’s limits and push ourselves further! Granted, that’s likely why they put us together to begin with, but just think of all the fun it will be. I mean, I’ll probably win, but it’s-”

Albert punched William hard in the nose. Partly to make him shut up…mostly to establish dominance.

The younger boy yelped, his nose busted, blood pouring out of his nostrils. He cupped his face, staring at Albert in shock as his eyes watered from the sting. “Ow!”

“Well, I just tested the limits of your face, and I must say…you need some work,” Albert sneered.

“What the hell is going on here?!” came James’ angered voice as he rushed into the room, practically yanking the two boys apart.

“I’m fine!” William blurted through his fingers.

Their new guardian sighed, shaking his head. “Why did I agree to this?” He headed for the door, snapping his fingers at William. “Come along, both of you. William, we need to do an x-ray.”

“Oh, it’s definitely broken,” William stated calmly and obediently followed after James.

“Albert, come,” James ordered in the doorway, glaring back at him.

“He brought it on himself,” Albert grumbled, and begrudgingly followed.

“Did not!”

“You did so!”

“BOYS!”

A few months later…

There was a chill to the air, but Albert was numb to it, lost in thought as he waited. Continuous mumbles soon interrupted his thoughts and he glared over at his “roommate”.

William had perched himself so he was lying upside down, halfway off the examination table, his blond hair hanging from his head and brushing the tiled floor. His face was turning red from all the blood rushing to his head.

Albert sighed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m bored! Why do you have to come for tests more than I do?”

“I don’t know, and who said you had to stay behind?”

“And go with James to that old person meeting? No thanks! You’re way more fun, Al.”

“How fortunate for me.”

The lights were burning his eyes as they waited. He squeezed them shut…and tried to tune out William in the process.

Albert was still settling in with James and William. He’d excelled in the boarding school since day one, enjoying it immensely compared to the one his father had sent him to. As annoying as his little roommate was, Albert found himself minding his company less with each subsequent day. Maybe he was building a tolerance to him…or maybe William was growing on him a little, although he refused to admit it.

William started humming, his fidgeting rustling the paper on the exam table. Albert opened his eyes and glared, witnessing his roommate attempting to slide down into a handstand, using the table as a brace to keep his balance.

Albert stood and reached over, grabbing William’s leg and yanking. With a startled “Ack!”, William toppled over. “You just had to do it, didn’t you,” he groaned as he got to his feet, dusting himself off.

“My head is killing me. I’d appreciate it if you stopped being bothersome,” Albert replied, cupping his fingers over his eyes.

“Ohhhh, it’s the lights again. Hmm.” William stood there thinking hard, glaring up at the bright lights while rubbing his chin. “I know!”

He headed for the door. The locked door. The one that always contained Albert. “It’s locked.”

“Psh! That doesn’t stop the great William Birkin!”

The nine year old prodigy procured a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door…just like that. Albert jumped to his feet when the door opened. “Where did you get that?!”

William looked confused at first. “Oh. I stole it from James. No locked doors for us, buddy! Come on, I have something for you!”

William stepped out of the room without a care in the world. Albert hesitated at the threshold. The fuzzy memories, the consequences, they stifled him for a moment before William snatched his arm and yanked him forward.

“Come on, slow poke!”

Albert followed William through the hallways. He had most of it memorized now, but was still not as familiar with it as William. The adults didn’t pay them much mind, too busy with their own duties down in the executive school’s research facility. William slipped into a smaller laboratory and beckoned him to follow.

By the time Albert caught up, William had snatched something off of a researcher’s desk and shoved it into his hands. “There! Now when you’re in the room with the bright lights, they won’t bother you! And you’ll look cool in the process!”

“Sun…glasses?”

“Yeah!”

Albert sighed. “Whose even are these?”

“Who cares? They’re yours now! Trust me, he won’t miss them.” William smacked Albert’s shoulder as he headed out. “Let’s get back before they miss us though.”

Albert nodded, slowly following after him, looking the sunglasses over. They looked positively ridiculous to say the least. He wouldn’t wear them unless he absolutely had to…but…it made him recall that no one bothered to help him with his eyes in all the years he had complained about the pain.

They returned to the patient room to wait. William sat down beside him, a few feet away, as he knew Albert didn’t like anyone close to him. But he slowly and quietly inched himself closer, and then presented something else to him when Albert didn’t snap at him to move away.

It was the key that unlocked the door. “I have another copy. This key is a master key for most of the facility. I…understand. I’ve been in locked rooms my whole life, too. But um…we can help each other not be controlled so much by them, yeah?”

Albert slowly took the key, peering at it as though it was invaluable treasure. He nodded silently in reply, squeezing his fingers around the brass.

Wincing from the lights, Albert slipped on the sunglasses. They were too big for him, but they did help tremendously against the bright glare.

William tittered next to him. “You look dashing!”

Albert snorted a suppressed laugh. And honestly, he couldn’t remember if he had ever laughed before.

March 19th 1998…

You can wait on me for once, asshole.

Wesker scowled at Claire’s text. It pertained to their established assignation tomorrow. She certainly enjoyed testing his forbearance at times. Not for the first time, he questioned his decision to gift her the PDA for maintaining contact.

His response would have to wait, however. He glanced at his watch after stepping foot into the Circular Café near Clock Tower Plaza. It was a popular bistro nestled right on the river. He soon spotted his quarry waiting for him at a booth.

The information broker, Aaron Roth, stared out onto Circular River, the water absorbing the morning hues of golds, purples, and reds. On the other side of the river, Raccoon City was a resplendent backdrop to this first act, towering, shadowy buildings in fresh dawn under a canopy of sun-tinged clouds.

Like most prey that had advanced senses to detect prowling predators, Roth caught sight of Wesker halfway towards the booth. Guarded, the broker inched his steaming coffee closer when Wesker sat across from him.

Nothing was said at first, even after Wesker pulled off his shades and stared his emissary down. A young waitress soon arrived at their booth.

“Good morning, Captain! Your usual?”

Wesker broke off his staredown long enough to give the girl two seconds of his time, direct eye contact, an artificial smile, and one nod. “Yes, that will do.”

“On it, sir!”

Wesker leaned back, leering at Roth. “Didn’t expect to find yourself back in Raccoon City so soon?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“How was your trip?”

Roth snorted, half-rolling his eyes while sipping his coffee. “Let’s skip the bullshit smalltalk, yeah?”

“Straightforward and efficient, as always. Good. It plays in your favor to keep me happy. Now proceed.”

Roth picked up a large white envelope that had been lying next to him. He pushed it across the table to his master.

“Well, the confidential data you and Birkin blackmailed out of Bard is correct. Christine Henry does have a secret project in the works. Laboratory Six in Paris. Derived from the Nemesis Project that’s been around for nearly a decade. Evidence suggests that it is in direct competition with Sergei’s pet project, T-ALOS. That explains why she wanted all the info on it three months ago.”

Wesker opened the envelope and flipped through the documents enclosed inside. Nemesis T-Type. Yes, this was it.

“Another tyrant-based project? It seems both Umbrella USA and Umbrella Europe cannot shake their unbridled rivalry.” Wesker enclosed the stolen research safely back inside its envelope. “All the better for me, I suppose.”

Instead of answering, Roth stared behind him, his usual composure becoming strained. By the time Wesker noticed, it was too late.

“The nerve you have to meet him here.”

Wesker sighed. “Sit, William. And be nice.”

“I was hella nice to Bennett. I’m still finding pieces of him, by the way,” William growled like a feral cat, and frankly, he kind of looked like one too after three nights underground.

His partner sat beside him, but looked like he wanted to reach across the table and scratch out the eyes of their liaison.

“Will, in just the span of a few months, Aaron has compensated us far over what he stole from you years ago. Let it go.”

“But he sold it to Alexia.”

Wesker glared at him.

William sighed like an indignant teenager. “Fiiiine.”

“Here you are, sir!” came the bubbly voice of their waitress, and she sat Wesker’s coffee in front of him. She then quickly presented William with a wide smile. “Dr. Birkin, you too? Do you want your usual?”

“Nah, Al’s paying today. So get me three orders of biscuits and sausage gravy, an everything bagel with avocado, a Spanish omelet, a side order of bacon, and a large triple shot caramel latte with extra whipped cream. Oooh actually, add another shot to that because I’m beat.”

“You got it, Doctor! I’ll get that out to you pronto.”

Wesker glared at William after the waitress bounded away, although Roth was left looking a little confused.

“What?” Will asked. “I’m hungry. Plus, I have a family to feed. You just keep drinking your sad black coffee, my friend. It will never be as black as your soul.”

“Actually, I am drinking a macchiato.”

“Aw, look at you giving yourself a little light. I knew Claire would be good for you!”

“Wait. Claire Redfield is still alive?” Roth asked.

Both Wesker and William broke off their repartee to glare at the info broker at the same time. He had unceremoniously readjusted their focus. Roth quickly regretted asking, as Wesker’s glare alone could kill.

“Why do you care, Aaron?” Will asked.

The information broker, calm and sly, lightly shrugged, feigning skepticism. “I just figured she’d long served her purpose by now.”

Such a clever rat.

Wesker scratched the top of his hand, an unspoken, discreet message to William. “What else do you have for us? Good news, I hope?”

Roth slowly nodded after swallowing. “Yes…She has agreed to meet you both. Unfortunately, the arrangements are a little tight because of her schedule. In two weeks. It’s the only time I could secure from her. But if you’re wanting to get info on her secret project and any of her other dirty little secrets, I suggest you take advantage post haste. I’ve already spoken with Alex and she has Daniel on board to help.”

“Two weeks?! There’s no way!” William grumbled. “You couldn’t make it in a month or so?”

The broker shook his head. “Dr. Henry is of noble blood. Very proud. Very secretive. Quite powerful and influential. She’s also quite fickle. She usually only gives out opportunities like this once. I highly suggest you take it while it stands, or you might lose her as an ally completely.”

“It won’t be an issue,” Wesker calmly added.

“Speak for yourself, I’m way busier than you!” Will scoffed.

“If I may,” Roth cleared his throat. “Will this not catch the attention of those above you? A UID agent and the Chief Researcher going on a trip to Paris to meet one of Umbrella Europe’s executives? Surely that will catch Spencer’s attention?”

William frowned and looked at Wesker, who didn’t even blink, but merely passed Roth a condescending smile. “I appreciate your ‘concern’, Aaron, but I already have it resolved.”

“Of course you do.” Both Roth and William said in unison, only to give each other weird looks.

“Proceed forward and tell Daniel to contact me. We’ll be there.” Wesker smirked. “It will be a pleasure to finally meet Christine Henry in person.”

Roth dipped his head and rose. “I’ll get it done.”

The info broker left without another word. William watched him depart completely from the café while Wesker took a long drink of his coffee.

“Such a good, obedient little puppy,” Will scoffed. “Until he shits in our shoes.”

Wesker smacked him with the envelope. “Stop your caviling.”

His partner took the envelope and stood just about the time their waitress returned with William’s order.

“Here’s your food all bagged up and your caramel latte with four shots of espresso! You might have a hard time sleeping tonight.” She giggled.

“Sleep? What’s that?” Will joked and winked at her. “Thanks, doll. Come on, Captain, let’s go!”

Wesker yawned and followed William out to his car. After the Chief Researcher secured his food on the back floorboard, he slid behind the wheel while Wesker waited in the passenger seat. Wesker finished his coffee while his partner took the time to go through the documents inside the envelope.

“Hmm, so after nearly a decade of impasse, it seems their ‘Nemesis Project’ has finally been redeveloped. You know, I met Henry briefly when Spencer imported one of their Nemesis Alpha parasites a decade ago. Remember that trip I made to Paris with Spencer like a week after we filled Marcus full of holes? Anyway, her father was in charge then. And since there were no BOWs at the time that could survive the parasite, I took the liberty of implanting it into Lisa. I got my beloved G-Virus out of it! I can only imagine what these new parasites could do if injected into Lisa now…But it seems they plan on implanting them into the next-generation T-103 Tyrants they want to mass produce on Sheena Island. They don’t even have the bugs worked out of the Epsilon strain or the T-002! Cart before the horse much?”

“They wish to test the T-002 on live combatants and use the data towards the final improvements for the new models. That is nothing new,” Wesker explained. “It will be machine versus organism in the coming months on which project will helm Phase Three and determine the future of the Tyrant line.”

“My money’s on this bad boy,” William replied with a child-like grin, staring at the prototype’s design in his lap. “Such intelligence! And look at that artillery!”

“Nature will always prevail,” Wesker agreed.”That is one constant in this world. T-ALOS may have a highly confidential A.I. nexus, but its advantages do not outweigh its disadvantages compared to the Nemesis Alpha parasites.”

“I do spot an error in this blueprint, though.” Will tapped the diagram. “Given how the parasite grows and attaches itself to the central nervous system and brain, I highly predict the cranial and facial tissues will have to be stapled or stretched. He won’t be this pretty.”

“What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. I'm just pre-bragging how I’ll be right. You’ll see.”

“I will get in contact with Ada. She can come along with us and oversee Daniel.”

“Um…isn’t she on assignment in South America?”

Wesker frowned. He’d been so busy these past few weeks it had slipped his mind. He thought it over. “Alex is also unavailable. It would be in our best interest to have someone else we can trust on this trip. Unfortunately, we might just have to make do with Daniel.”

“Hey, didn’t you say Claire speaks French?”

That’s all it took for Wesker’s brain to do what it did best. Calculate, plot, scheme, orchestrate…

In that same moment, his phone dinged, and a familiar name read across the screen. Claire, sending him another text in response from earlier.

I’ll be there.

Wesker stared at the words, his lips spreading into a wide, devilish grin.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #albert wesker #claire redfield #claire x wesker #clairexwesker #chris x jill #chris redfield #jill valentine #william birkin #sherry birkin #my writing #ao3 fanfic

25 notes · View notes

1-800-deactivatednearu · 1 year

Note

Idk if i sent you this request because memories shit but,

Do you know tc2? Typical colors 2, its the roblox and i was wondering if you could draw any of the funny tc2 mercs- *autism eyes*

never sent this to me yet ^_^

[i.d.: a digital drawing of the typical colors 2 cast in a group ensemble, in yellow (neutral colour) uniform. from left to right: flanker, trooper, arsonist, annihilator, brute, mechanic, doctor, marksman, agent. /end i.d.]

some sketches + headcanons below read more, lower quality than my usual but blehhh :P

[i.d.: two sketches. agent, her hand on flanker's shoulder with a distant expression: "Bravo… son." flanker, pulling a face: "What." agent: "She hasn't told you yet?"

agent kisses flanker's mom, captioned: "new stepmom." /end i.d.]

these characters are so young, what do you mean 18-25 age range between flanker and agent?? scary, i have not drawn someone under age thirty (if not forty!) in a while

agent may not be flankers mom but thats not stopping her from traveling to new york for reasons other than business :P

well ! off to visit your mother !

flankers mom design is roughly based off his unused female design

[i.d.: three sketches. marksman, pointing to his scarred eye: "This eye? Gone. Plain can't see out of it." he holds his rifle scope to the scarred eye: "Anyways."

doctor bundles up his coat to staunch mechanic's wound. mechanic ogles doctor's exposed stocky build, captioned "oh wow muscles."

arsonist (captioned "AAC board user"): "Dominated. Scrub." /end i.d.]

i read the domination line. i see others making fun of marksman for being blind. his eye is scarred?? he cannot see out his eye????? the one he puts up to his scope??????

you know i actually played tc2 . for research purposes . and wow mechanics voice is very piercing(?) especially when you play doctor (compare to the softer spoken arsonist and doctor) so its very easy to have him on the mind

i think its good to subvert expectations when you can, soft intellectual doctor with a muscular build thats largely obscured by his clothing

i actually think of the doctor as with russian heritage if only because of his older voice lines :)

is arsonist a robot??? i saw word going around but didnt see anything necessarily canon about it? is this head canon or canon?

interpreted them as an aac user (and a human), i think it would work well with the nature of voice lines in games

[i.d.: two sketches. agent and doctor are glaring at each other and quoting their domination lines for one another. agent, holding a gun to doctor's chest : "Vulnerable. Weak. Easy." doctor, bent over to be glaring up at her: "You're annoying, you're weak, and you're an absolute failure."

brute, talking, captioned: "my friend, infodumping about motorbikes" marksman, smiling at him, captioned: "me, knowing it's my turn to infodump about fishing next"

mechanic has his hand on the flanker's shoulder: "Well son back in my day--" flanker cuts him off, looking skeptical: "My MOM is older than you???" /end i.d.]

i think trying to build off team fortress dynamics for typical colors isnt my thing :( cmon we gotta take these characters by the horns and make our own dynamics and characterizations i believe in us!!!

personally think doctor and agent have something going on . they hate each other they kill each other they kiss with tongue . they have funny domination lines .

mechanic using "son" is funny, this guy cannot be older than agent and yall know shes only 20-25

what do you mean he has a phd. flanker told him that a more useful education for mechanic was in political science, that was absolutely brutal to read

also finding him following engineer team fortress (a texan) in tonal inflection and slang as a western usamerican (not texan) funny . yeeaboo :)

i think the oldest characters would be like . brute and marksman in their 30s . maybe doctor too

i think brute and marksman could get along :) they contrast in a way that i think would play off nicely, someone who is outgoing and upbeat drawing someone more reserved out of their shell

#tc2 #typical colors 2 #my art #flanker tc2 #trooper tc2 #arsonist tc2 #annihilator tc2 #brute tc2 #mechanic tc2 #doctor tc2 #marksman tc2 #agent tc2 #agentdoctor

58 notes · View notes

straightlightyagami · 1 year

Text

decided to make a separate poast too. Um hi I was inspired by this post about how there are not enough Death Note fics about Light being scary/the average person's view of Kira so I decided to do that. but it's about like, a criminal's view of Kira. decided to post on tumblr too. um yeah as I said. it's short (~1.5k words) and (probably not) sweet. i made sure to include a lot of Themes and Literary Devices and stuff like that hope u notice them. (ao3 link)

content warning for a lot of murder (same as canon) also religious themes

There were whispers. Rumors. Even in a facility designed to keep society safe from its worst, its inhabitants were not truly sequestered. Nor cut off enough to be shielded from forces outside it. They did not expect to ever leave – escape is impossible, there are always eyes watching – but once, in another life, they had lived in the shadows, and so could see things others would miss, hidden from the light.

The first time he heard about the thing no prisoner dared to say aloud was from a guard. The guard was new on the job, and young, even younger than himself, barely old enough to be a man. The guard had hesitated a moment after passing him and his cellmate their food through the slot, then said the words quietly. They say God is passing judgment on the scum of the Earth. Like you. Over a thousand dead in the past week. All around the world. Killers, rapists, corrupt officials and executives. All cardiac arrest. Then the guard turned abruptly and left, not waiting for a response. The prisoner shared a look with his cellmate. He may have been stupid to end up with a life like that, but not stupid enough to believe such a story. Yeah, and poorly behaved children get eaten by Baba Yaga.

The scum of the Earth. A fitting descriptor for himself, and for most of the prison’s residents, the staff included. For a member of mainstream society at least. They lived by their own code of honor. But he did not lie to himself.

A fitting descriptor for most of them, but not all. His cellmate, a political prisoner, was such an exception. He was a quiet man, in his early 30s, polite and soft spoken, rather short, just shy of a meter and sixty. He did not speak often, but his few words were eloquent. This and his demeanor and dignified way of carrying himself appeared more characteristic of someone you would find lecturing in a university auditorium, not rotting away in a prison cell. The guards seemed to afford him a greater degree of respect than they did the others. On his part, the man did not outwardly appear to judge the other prisoners for their heinous crimes (though the prisoner suspected this was more of a wise decision made in the interest of self preservation and he had to feel at least a little sick finding out what the other inmates had done). All in all, he was a decent cellmate, if a little boring due to his withdrawnness, mostly opting to spend his days writing letters. It was in the letters received by his cellmate that the second news of the Judgment came.

He was not a religious man, but the day his cellmate wordlessly passed him the letter, he spent the whole night praying. What for, he was not sure. There was nobody left who would care if he died (surely not himself). His cellmate had a wife and a child, but he didn’t need prayer. God would spare his cellmate. The same could not be said for him.

Was it too late to repent? God would not think him worthy of life, surely, if he prayed only to save his own life (did he want to save his own life?). The fact that he hadn’t done so earlier would mean he didn’t truly regret what he had done. If he lived, he would go back to his old ways (he didn’t want to. But not even he himself believed that).

Could this god even hear him? He didn’t know a lot about religion, but maybe this was not God the way the Christians thought of Him. Maybe it was a god of another religion. Why did God wait so long to interfere in human affairs? Maybe it was the work of an angel tired of the evil that plagued this world.

(He was evil.)

***

He was just about to be taken on his daily hour-long walk when the Judgment came to the prison. There was a commotion, guards running down the hall, shouts. His cellmate was sitting and looking around agitatedly.

It must be time. He wanted to die peacefully, so he lay on his cot and closed his eyes. He was struck by a vivid memory of being barely four years old, lying in his bed in a dark room, the branches on the tree outside his window swaying in the night wind, his mom brushing his hair from his forehead and singing a lullaby, her voice clear in his memory as if she was there, in that cell, sitting on his cot a few centimeters away. He wanted to follow that voice.

A minute passed. Five minutes. Half an hour. He was still alive. He opened his eyes.

The door creaked open and a guard came to take him on his walk.

In the courtyard, the bodies were arranged in neat rows and columns. It could be his turn at any moment. He looked away and at the gray sky beyond the barbed wire, breathing in the air. It could be his last time to ever go outside and stand beneath the sky. He thanked God, or whatever this power was, for giving him the chance to say goodbye.

***

Thousands of kilometers away, a seventeen-year-old boy (a person with a very different life, who always ate three meals a day, went to the best schools, had the newest computers, and washed his soft, shiny brown hair with the highest quality shampoo) was sitting at his desk in his two-story suburban house, awake far past midnight, and writing names in a black notebook. After finishing the last line on the page, he glanced at the clock, rubbed his eyes, and put the notebook into his desk drawer. The last judgment could wait until the morning; his sleep was more important. He turned off his desk lamp, climbed under the covers, and quickly fell asleep.

***

Every cell on his floor of the prison was empty. The unusual quiet was unsettling, and it felt even more cold than the usual winter. The prisoner could not sleep that night. He probably did not need to anyway. He decided to pass the time by sifting through more of his memories instead of blankly staring at the ceiling.

He thought of the day his father died. It was in early September of 1989. He had just started third grade. Again. He had received failing grades in almost all subjects the previous year, but was determined not to fail again. He spent all of that afternoon studying for his upcoming math quiz. Sometime around nine in the evening, he noticed that the apartment was eerily quiet. His dad should have been home by then. It was never quiet when his dad was home.

His mother was standing in the kitchen, leaning on the windowsill and smoking. The lights in apartment blocks were turning on and from the distance they looked like stars that had come down to Earth. The wind was still warm and gentle that time of the year, making the curtains billow into the room. His mother was still in her work uniform. Despite the premature graying of her hair and wrinkles on her face, she was beautiful.

“Mom? Will dad come home tonight?”

She turned around. The tears on her eyes were still fresh. “No. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“So he will never hurt you again?”

“Never. He can never hurt us again.” She smiled. “You are his son. But I bore and raised you. So promise. Promise me that you will be a better man than your father. For me.”

“I promise.”

What would she think of him now? He opened his eyes and stood up. If he stood at the correct angle from the tiny window, he could see a bit of the night sky. The sky was clear that night, so he could see a few stars. He hoped that there was no afterlife so his mother could never see who he was.

He shook his cellmate awake. “Promise.”

The latter groggily opened his eyes. “What? Promise what?”

There was a sudden pain in his chest. He tried to gasp for breath. Through his cloudy vision, he could see that his cellmate had gotten up and caught him, gently helping him to the floor.

I’m sorry, mom...

***

Still in pajamas, the boy wrote the name with no hesitation or change in his expression, neat black letters on the first line of the first empty page.

A gangster. Guilty of multiple counts of murder, taking hostages, and who knew what else.

Finishing the last stroke, he clicked his pen. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the clock as he counted down 40 seconds. Then smiled with satisfaction.

#death note #light yagami #orygynall poast #my writing #probably not good but! whatever.#i wrote this in like 2 hours bc i got stuck on a math problem for a while and suddenly i thought of this #and went you know what. why not

20 notes · View notes

bimyself06 · 9 months

Text

Can we take a moment to see how the show version of the female characters from HoTD can be associated with a female from Greek Mythology?

Alicent and Hera. Both were forced to marry kings with dead wives. Alicent by father as a way to consolidate and grow his power and to put his blood on the throne, Hera was forced to marry Zeus after he raped after he pretended to be a hurt bird and she tried to help it.

Rhaenyra and Clytemnestra. Both are mothers who never forgave those who caused the death of their child and where still killed after avenging them. Rhaenyra had(and please correct me politely if I'm wrong, it's been a while since I last saw the show) been ready to give up her rightful crown so long as her family was left alone until she got the news of Luke's death, after Jace's death and Viserys II supposed death she seemed to have gotten more "crueller" and was killed by her half brother Aegon. Clytemnestra never forgave her husband for sacrificing their daughter Iphigenia in order to go to war against Troy and spent the next ten years plotting his demise, she was ultimately killed by her son as revenge for killing his father.

Helaena and Cassandra. This one is self explanatory, both seers who warned everyone around them of the incoming danger but no one believed them causing their tragic deaths and their families destruction. Helaena after the death of Maelor and having witnessed the beheading of her other son Jaehaerys. Cassandra is killed by Clytemnestra after Agamemnon takes her as a slave after the fall of Troy.

Rhaena and Aphrodite. Both are often looked down upon for being the more "soft" spoken out of their surroundings female peers yet are ultimately stronger and more dangerous than they look. Rhaena is the last known Targaryen to hatch a healthy dragon egg after the DoTD and if Aegon had gone through with his threat of killing her younger brother she would have been the one Rhaenyra's supporters would have declared for(since Viserys II was still thought dead and Baela was still under captivity in KL). Aphrodite was worshiped in places such as Sparta, Cyprus, and many other city states as a war goddess, there are some myths that suggest she was the daughter of Uranus and Thalassa(personification of the sea).

Baela and Atalanta. Both are presented as free spirited young women with a love for adventures and who are not afraid to fight when needed. Baela was very vocal about having a bigger role as a dragonrider and fighter in the war but continuously turned down however she and her dragon played a huge part in further crippling Aegon after he flees to Dragonstone. Atalanta after having spent most of her life in the woods(first being raised by a she bear and then by hunters if I remember the myth correctly) attempted to join the Argonauts however she was turned down in some myths for fear she may cause striffe among the men as woman or she joined them and fought alongside them in others, after the whole Argonauts thing she joins the haunt for the Calydonian Boar and gains it's hide for being the first to injure it.

I would continue but I am currently sick and sleep deprived so I'm going to bed.

#hotd #hotd women and their greek mythology counterparts #maybe ill make a part two

2 notes · View notes

fredzeppelin · 1 year

Text

This is a photo and related article my grandfather sent me by Email, I hope you guys enjoy

It Happened In The 60s

Before Beatlemania set in, George Harrison visited his sister in Illinois on 16 September 1963, becoming the first Beatle on American soil.

Beatle John has the story:

“When a young man with long dark hair and a thick British accent first told Dorothy Burkitt, a chaperone at the old West Frankfort Teen Town, that he played in a band called the Beatles, she laughed. ‘Why would you name a band after an insect?’ she asked. But other than that she didn’t give it much thought.

At the time, Burkitt and her husband, Fred, were both chaperones at the teen town, which was located above Van-Wood Electric in a two-story building on West Main Street. It was there that she had her brief encounter with George Harrison, although she doubted much of what he said. ‘He was so sweet,’ she recalls. ‘We must have talked for a good hour, but I’m sorry I didn’t even shake his hand.’ Burkitt said George told her he was visiting over here from England with his sister, and he came to the teen town to see the band and hear its vocalists. She remembers him sitting on an old red couch in the lobby.

The next time Burkitt saw George Harrison, he was on ‘The Ed Sullivan Show’ several months later. ‘Oh, my gosh, Fred, there’s that kid that came to our teen town,’ she said. ‘He was telling the truth.’”

- Before He Was Fab: George Harrison’s First American Visit (2000)

Additional background from George:

According to George, “I went to New York and St Louis in 1963, to look around, and to the countryside in Illinois, where my sister was living at the time. I went to record stores. I bought Booker T and the MGs’ first album, Green Onions, and I bought some Bobby Bland, all kind of things.” George also bought James Ray’s single “Got My Mind Set On You” that he later covered in 1987.

When the Harrisons arrived in Benton, George and Louise hitchhiked to radio station WFRX-AM in West Frankfort, Illinois taking a copy of “She Loves You” which had been released 3 weeks earlier in Britain and on the day of George’s arrival in America. “She Loves You” got a positive review in Billboard but very little radio play, although WFRX did play it. According to DJ Marcia Raubach: “He was unusual looking, he dressed differently than the guys here. He was very soft-spoken and polite.”

It’s often claimed that in June 1963 Louise took a British copy of “From Me To You” to WFRX that she had been sent by her mother and that Raubach played it. This is probably true but the claim that this was the first time The Beatles’ music was broadcast in America is not. “From Me To You” was released in Britain in late April and then topped the British singles’ chart for seven weeks’. With the Beatles at No. 1 in Britain, Vee Jay Records released their single of ‘From Me To You’ / ‘Thank You Girl” as VJ 522 on May 27, 1963. The single was made ‘Pick Of the Week’ by Cash Box magazine, but was not a success.

With the Beatles success in Britain in early 1963, Parlophone were anxious to take advantage of their new asset and so contacted their sister label in America, Capitol Records that was owned by EMI. Capitol was underwhelmed by the Beatles records and so decided against releasing any of their records. Instead, Parlophone turned to a small US label called Vee Jay, a company started by a husband and wife in Gary, Indiana that specialized in black R & B music.

It was an irony probably not lost on the Beatles who loved and had been influenced by exactly that kind of music. In February 1963, two days after “Please Please Me” made No. 1 in Britain, Vee Jay released it as a single in the US. VJ 498 did get some airplay from the major Chicago top 40 radio station WLS and it even made their own chart for a couple of weeks, but nothing happened nationally on the Billboard charts. Not helping the band was the fact that Vee Jay managed to miss-spell the band’s name on the record as “Beattles.”

Article thanks to Richie Havers at www.udiscovermusic.com

#the beatles #Beatles #george harrison #60s #classic rock #pop #R&B #history #music

6 notes · View notes

ophelia-jones · 1 year

Text

May

8, 1880

Isadora was dirty and exhausted from her travels and her heart was laden with a steely grief which people told her time would ease. She knew, though, that these were empty words meant to ease the pain of the early days of loss. The grief would not go away, rather it would become a burden she was accustomed to carrying.

Eight months earlier she had returned to El Paso with her beloved Madre' who wanted to die in the town where she was born and be buried beside her parents. Her father was a surgeon barber and though he wanted to accompany Maria, he had not dared lose his livelihood to make the journey.

Though the idea of Isadora traveling alone terrified him, he had put his faith in God and allowed her to undertake the task of seeing her mother home.

At least she did not need to cross the border, Hank had said, much to Maria's chagrin. El Paso had been a Mexican city when she was a girl, though it had eventually seceded to Texas but Maria's heart had always been with Mexico.

Isadora had been born in Texas after her parents were wed, and they had moved around the southwestern territories most of her youth. They had finally found a home in New Hope Wyoming when she was a girl of 11. It was the first place she had felt accepted as she was, and not shunned by the Hispanic people for being half-white or called cruel names by whites for the same. She understood how Madre' felt about El Paso because it was the way she felt about New Hope. It was her home .

At least the majority of the travel had been able to be accomplished by train, the Union Pacific railway had made possible the sort of journey that had once been in a lifetime for many people more accessible.

Now, however, the train had taken her as far as it could and she would need a stagecoach to complete her trek. She sighed with relief as she settled into the covered carriage, despite knowing it would be a far from comfortable ride home. The carriage shook as the driver loaded her luggage into the boot and strapped it down.

An immaculately dressed, well-groomed young man with ash brown hair and soulful grey eyes boarded first, offering Isadora a polite but proper nod and smile of greeting. Outside the carriage, there was a commotion between the coach driver and a woman, presumably another passenger for the trip to New Hope.

Soon a woman with flaming red curls climbed into the coach with a dramatic sigh. She wore a suede riding skirt with no bustle and an almost scandalously high hemline that fell just below the knees, and a white linen blouse long duster made of the same buckskin suede as the skirt. She also had a prominent holster on each hip containing a Lemat revolver in each. As soon as the doors were closed the woman began loosening the buttons on the neck of her blouse and fanning herself.

Isadora averted her eyes at the woman's lack of modesty and tried to focus on the landscape passing outside her window.

"Mary Kate, your immodesty is disconcerting to proper ladies, we've discussed this a great many times," the young man scolded his companion.

"Oh for feck's sake, Aaron just because yer an old niminy-piminy doesn't mean everyone else is. I've got nothing she hasn't seen afore!" the woman declared with a thick Irish accent.

"Allow me to apologize, madam. My cousin has never been one for proper etiquette I'm afraid. I hope it doesn't trouble you too greatly," the young man said. He was soft-spoken and seemed sincerely kind to Isadora and she smiled at him in response.

"It doesn't trouble me, it's one of the better things about being home. Expectations are relaxed when it comes to manners," she said, stealing a glance at the fiery-haired woman. The gentleman's accent said east coast - Philidelphia, perhaps. The pair could not have been more unlike.

"Aaron Murphy, Ma'am. This is my unruly cousin, Mary Kathleen Byrne," he introduced himself politely and Isadora turned to stare at the woman, her jaw dropping at the name as she put two and two together.

"Wildfire Kate, the gambler?" She asked, and Kate's blue eyes lit up.

"See, Aaron, she's not such an old sage hen. She reads the papers." Kate nudged her cousin. Aaron pressed his lips together in distaste; he was not a fan of pulp fiction.

"Did you really beat Doc Holiday in a shootout?" Isadora asked, the corner of her mouth twitching up in excitement.

"Ach, no. I could, t'be sure, but I've yet to meet the man. He's avoiding me, I say," she said playfully, her steel blue eyes dancing. Isadora could not help but return her smile, the woman's effervescent personality hard to resist.

"What brings you up to New Hope?" Isadora asked the pair, genuinely curious. New Hope wasn't a particularly large place and not a tourist destination by any means.

"I hear there's a man up that way making a name for himself, has done so well at the tables he went and started buying property up this way, I wanted to test his mettle, if ye will," She replied.

"Are you talking about Negan Smith?" Isadora groaned. The man was a menace.

"That's the man himself! D'ya know him, then?" Kate asked.

"I do. He was a cowhand that drifted from ranch to ranch when he was younger, did an apprenticeship as a blacksmith, then he tried his hand at mining for gold up in the mountains. He did well with that, and that's when he started gambling. He did even better at that, I suppose. Now he owns a ranch not far from New Hope with more cattle than anyone in the county but Herschel Green. He also owns the dance hall in town, and a lot of folks think he's aiming to run for Mayor next." Isadora informed her.

"A real Jack-of-all-trades, eh? How is he with a pistol?" Kate wanted to know. Isadora scoffed.

"He considers himself the best there is, from what I understand. He has a Colt Peacemaker he calls 'Lucille' that he terrorizes people with."

"Sounds like just the sorta fella what needs to be brought down a peg or two. Sounds like fun, time!" Kate winked at Isadora.

Suddenly, the stagecoach lurched forward, they could hear the reinsman cracking his whip and trying to drive the horses harder. The shotgun guard was calling out, but they could not understand his words amidst the clatter and bang of the carriage as it bounced dangerously fast over rocks and holes. The wheels were term long on their axles and it seemed a sure thing that at least one would soon break or come off. Then they heard the boom of the guard's shotgun.

"Is it Indians, do you think?" Aaron asked, his eyes nervous.

"More likely road agents. Relations with the tribes that once resided here are mostly peaceful these days. The Indian wars were awful but things have been quiet since," Isadora said, shocking even herself with her ability to remain collected.

"Highwaymen?" Kate said, arching a ginger eyebrow. "Well they're in for a surprise," she drew both pistols and checked that they were fully loaded. There was another shot, and another, followed by a horrible thump as the shotgun guard fell from his post.

The driver reined the horses in and they came to an abrupt stop, Isadora thrown forward on top of Kate. She had no time to right herself before the doors were yanked open on each side and two men with bandanas tied around their lower faces pointed pistols at them.

"Hands up! I don't wanna see none o' you reaching for NOTHING, ya hear me? You breathe the wrong way and it'll be the last breath you ever take!" the taller of the two men yelled at them. He was thin and had the darkest, most dangerous blue eyes Isadora had ever seen. She believed the man would follow through with his threats.

As Isadora managed to sit upright in her seat once more, she caught a glimpse of Kate looking very frustrated with the fact that she had accidentally prevented her from drawing her weapons. Isadora couldn't think about it at the moment, her mind was on trying not to panic.

"Well, what have we here?" The highwayman announced, sounding more than a little pleased at the sight of the pistols. Kate cursed at the man but cooperated as he removed the pistols from their holsters and handed over a was of bills she'd had secured in her boot. While he busied himself with taking everything of value Kate had in her, the other man focused on Aaron and Isadora.

"Hand over your money and your jewelry, any weapons, too," he demanded, his voice a low growl. This man, still taller than average despite being slightly shorter than the other, had the broadest shoulders Isadora had ever seen. He wore a brown leather hat with a broad brim and shaggy brown hair that covered nearly every bit of his face which wasn't hidden by the bandana. As she slipped the rings off her fingers and untied the purse from her wrist, she caught sight of his silver blue eyes and hesitated. She was struck with the thought that this man was just as frightened as she was. Just as trapped.

"And the necklace," he said, gesturing to the gold chain around her neck with his gun.

"Oh, no, please sir, this is all I have left of mi madre, my mother. Anything else, but this is a reliquia de familia!" she was ashamed at how quickly the tears sprang to her eyes. She knew it was foolish to beg a robber, it was only delaying the inevitable and might well agitate him enough to get her killed. But there was something about this man, a kindness in his eyes…

"Don't fall for that boohooing bullshit!" the first man yelled across the coach as the long-haired man hesitated.

"We got what we need, let's go!" the kind-eyed man retorted.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" the other robber demanded. He looked Isadora up and down for a moment, then reached out and rubbed a lock of her long black hair between his fingers. "Although, she is a prize in and of herself, ain't she? Maybe you should come along with us, sugar. Then you don't need to part with your 'reliquia'."

Isadora's chest tightened, her heart beating so quickly that she began to tremble. She couldn't even find the strength to speak. Suddenly, a strong hand reached out and grabbed the locket firmly, and with a sharp tug the chain broke and the hesitant man snatched it away from her.

"You happy? Let's GO!" he yelled at the other man before turning to mount his horse. The leader of the highwaymen, she could see now that there were at least two other riders on horseback keeping watch over their brethren as they robbed the passengers, kept his eyes on Isadora for a long silent moment. When he finally turned and mounted his horse she finally breathed out - and began to sob.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph I coulda stopped 'em if I'd had half a chance to get me guns!" Kate exclaimed angrily. "I fecking hate being outdrawn!"

Aaron opened the door and stepped out quietly.

"And where are you off to?" Kate asked him, sounding annoyed.

"I'm going to see if there is anything I can do for the guard or the driver," he explained calmly. He was the only one of the three who had kept his head during it all. His concern for the others brought both women out of their selfish reveries.

Isadora hurried from the coach to discover that the driver was uninjured but had been robbed, bound, and gagged in case he had any thoughts of giving chase. The shotgun guard, however, was on the ground with a broken arm and a shotgun wound to his chest.

"He's still breathing, help me get him into the carriage!" Isadora said, the years of helping her father take over her thoughts. She moved with purpose as the four of them lifted the injured man into the coach. Kate sat up with the driver, taking the shotgun position even though the bandits had taken the shotgun. Aaron sat beside Isadora and they tried to keep the man as comfortable as possible for the rest of the bumpy journey.

"Thank the Lord they didn't steal the horses," Aaron murmured at one point.

"They knew what they could get away with," Isadora replied, "they'd be shot or hanged for stealing horses."

"Right. Of course," Aaron replied. He had only been west of Pennsylvania for a few months and still wasn't entirely familiar with the ways of the wild west.

When they arrived in the town the stagecoach pulled up to the station and Kate disembarked hurriedly, opening the door for the others.

"Aaron, would you go down the street and find my father? He's the barber-surgeon, his shop is just down there on the left!" Isadora asked her new acquaintance, then turned to Kate "And Kate, go to the jail and get the Sheriff." She herself was still applying pressure to the worst of the man's wounds to stem the bleeding.

*********************************

Sheriff Rick Grimes was reading over a telegraph for the third time, trying to make sense of the why and how of the message. He had been doing everything within reason to catch the highwaymen who had been robbing the good people of this county for the past few months, and he was confident that he would catch the men in time. So why had Mayor Gregory sent for help from the Pinkerton Agency in Chicago?

He was more than irritated at the man overstepping his place. Rick was the Sheriff of the county, and Gregory was responsible only for what happened within the town limits. He was about to call into the man's home to demand some answers when a woman with wild red curly hair burst in.

"What the hell?" Shane cried out, standing up quickly from behind the desk where he had been nearly dozing. Shane was Rick's Deputy, and though other men were also deputies, Shane was the only one who was paid for his work. The others all made their living in other ways but could be called on when there was a need.

"The stagecoach has been robbed, and a man has been shot, in case you were interested," she announced, her Irish lilt sassy and judgemental to Rick's ears.

He and Shane both hurried to follow the woman, arriving at the stagecoach at the same time as Beau Landry, the local barber-surgeon. Before long, they had the man carried into the jail and placed him on the cot so he could be treated for his injuries.

Once they had done all there was to do, and Kate, Aaron, and the driver had filled the officers in on everything they could recall about the robbery, Rick watched through the doorway as the woman with the black hair and dark eyes washed the blood from the injured man's face and reassured him. Her father had gone to the chemist for some laudanum to ease the man's pain and help him to rest.

"Miss Landry?" Rick said from the doorway. "How are you? Were you injured?"

Isadora sighed and stood to face the sheriff. Her hair had come down from where it had been pinned up neatly on the back of her head when the day had begun. Her black mourning dress was dirty from kneeling on the ground to aid the man and stained with his blood. Her deep brown eyes were weary and filled with sorrow, and Rick's heart ached for her. He felt as if he had failed her by not stopping these robberies sooner.

She was a striking beauty, even disheveled as she was, and there was a strength in her dark eyes he had rarely seen in most men, let alone a young woman. He found himself staring and yet despite knowing it was bad manners, couldn't quite tear his eyes away.

"I'm uninjured, Sheriff Grimes, gracias. Only tired." she smiled weakly.

"Do you think you can tell me about the men? Anything you noticed, anything at all no matter how small."

"There were four of them. They were covered from head to toe, except for their eyes. I'm not sure I saw anything that would help," she replied, thinking of those blue eyes. She didn't know why, but she couldn't bring herself to mention them.

"I'll find them, they will pay for doing this to you," he told her earnestly.

"Where are you from, Sheriff Grimes?" Isadora asked, noting his accent. There was something about his presence, the way he stood, perhaps, that she found reassuring. A quiet strength in his eyes.

"Georgia, originally," he replied with a slight smile. "Before the war."

"You were a soldier," she said, as if this answered some question she had been asking herself.

"A sergeant with the 1st Battalion of Georgia Infantry," he replied, looking shyly at the floor.

"You fought for the union?" she remarked, clearly surprised. "No wonder you left Georgia."Rick chuckled slightly, nodding slightly and looking up at her with his head still slightly bowed.

"That, and there was nothing left there for me. While I was fighting, my wife died in childbirth," he informed her.

"I'm sorry," Isadora told Rick sincerely.

"I'm sorry to leave you waiting so long, Izzy, but I'm back with the laudanum. Why don't you go home now and freshen yourself up? You must be exhausted," Beau told his daughter as he returned to the jail.

"Si, Papi. Thank you," she kissed the man on his cheek and moved for the door.

"I'll walk you home," Rick offered, and Isadora was too weary to refuse.

#original female character #the walking dead fanfiction #Negan #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #negan fanfiction #rick grimes #thewalkingdead

2 notes · View notes

merakiui · 3 years

Note

Mera, I have seen many college student Albedo but have you ever seen Teacher Albedo? 😔

Cw//mention of kidnapping, (Forbidden)Student-Teacher Relationship//

Imagine he was a biology teachers who popular among the students bc of his appearance and looking so young(even his own student doesn't recognized him as a teacher when they're first meet), he's a polite and friendly teacher, he was married his wife is a businesswoman and has a little daughter but unfortunately they got divorced(he found out that she's cheating with her friend, unsurprisingly they both know as partner business and always looks together but Albedo shrug it off).

Until one day, he meet darling who was a first years student, who's naive and know nothing. Darling who always almost get failed from his class, until Albedo decided he will tutored darling. Surprisingly Darling is quick learner and almost correctly answer all his quiz, then he question darling how can she failed almost all in his class?, darling giggling embarrassing and looks flustered. Somehow since he tutored darling, they become close almost like a friend but Albedo somehow growing a feeling for darling and he know you two cannot be couple since you're his student so he will hide his own feeling until you graduated.

One day, you tell him that you has a boyfriend and tell him you two has been in relationship since your first high school, he who heard the news was so upset and break heart but what can he do? He just your teacher 😞. Poor man got break heart for the second time 😔, but its ok Darling... You can do whatever you want until he decided to kidnap you and then you two can be a family!(he make sure Klee will open up to you little by little) 😊💕.

That art is so pretty!!

(cw: yandere, female reader, slight nsfw thoughts, age gap (reader is of legal age, but albedo is still much older), college au, one-sided student-teacher dynamic (albedo’s doing all of the pining), obsessive thoughts, unhealthy behaviors, mention of kidnapping)

No one would ever suspect that the calm and collected biological sciences professor could ever harbor such a deep, dark obsession for one of his students. He’s very good at hiding his infatuation and makes sure to treat each of his students equally. If he let his blatant favoritism for you slip, he may never hear the end of it. Clever students would catch onto him and then it would spiral into an even bigger dilemma. He absolutely can’t let that happen. He has a little girl who loves him dearly, and even if he doesn’t see her as often as he once did before the divorce he still wants to make an effort. He needs to be in her life, which is why he does everything with careful, meticulous caution. He’s treading on the thinnest ice with this obsession, and he’s very aware that it’s wrong.

He’s not quite sure how it started, or why it even snuck up on him like this. He hadn’t thought much of your name when he saw it on his roster. Didn’t even spare you much of a glance the first few days of class. You’re a good student. You turn in the work on time, you do what you can to participate—it’s the bare minimum, but he’ll take it over no participation at all—and you do surprisingly well on his exams. Albedo has never felt anything this strong for anyone before. Not even his ex-wife could instill these sort of feelings in him. So the fact that a mere first-year student could snag his heart so easily… It’s quite surprising.

The very first day of class was spent going over the syllabus and expectations he has for his class. It’s a boring day. Most students ignore half of the stuff he says, so it’s not like it really matters. It’s all written there in the syllabus anyways. You listened to him, though. Your eyes never left him while he explained everything thoroughly and when there came a time for questions you raised your hand and asked if you could speak to him after class. It was a simple inquiry, albeit spoken in a soft, hushed tone—you were nervous; it was cute—and he had nodded despite just wanting to tell you to email any questions to him.

After he had ended class earlier than usual and everyone had filed out of the room, you remained. You slid your notebook into your bag, threw it over your shoulder, and approached his desk. He was fixing the stacks of papers on his desk, a poor excuse to give his hands something to do, when you cleared your throat and asked a question he wasn’t quite expecting.

“You mentioned that labs make up part of this course and that we meet on different days for them. Um… I was just wondering… Will we be dissecting anything?”

He blinked at you. “Do you want to dissect something?”

“N-No!” You shook your head, eyes blown wide. “Not at all. Sorry. I just wanted to ask because I’m not really good with handling…gore.”

“In that case, I’ll see what the others think when we meet next. If the majority aren’t up for it, we won’t dissect anything. Although we will still study the biological processes and characteristics of some animals—mostly deceased specimens and taxidermy models. Will you be all right with that?”

“Sure, that’s okay.” You mustered a meek smile and took a few steps away from his desk, heading for the door. “Thank you for letting me know, Professor Kreideprinz. Have a good day.”

He nodded. “You as well.”

Something clicked in his head. It was strange; he’s not normally drawn to his students. Even if he’s had some of the most promising pupils, none of them ever made him feel so…strange inside. He went back to rearranging the papers on his desk, mind foggier than it’s ever been.

In the following weeks, Albedo gets to know more about his students. He’s a scientist, so observation is his forte. He listens to the chatter and gossip as they file in while he’s at his desk getting his computer booted up with the slides for the day. You like to exchange conversation with the boy who sits next to you. He’s always accompanied with a girl and the three of you bounce off of one another with great chemistry. He’s committed everyone’s names and faces to his memory by now and is well aware of the two you call your friends.

Amber and Kaeya. They’re a fun pair. He’s caught you laughing with them on more than one occasion. Kaeya likes to poke fun at the specimens in the jars, providing you and Amber with childish jokes. Whenever it’s lab time, the three of you are always so quick to group up and work together on getting the work done. Albedo didn’t mind it at first; it’s good that you have friends. It’s good that you’re so upbeat and talkative when you’re with them.

It’s good that he’s writing all of this down so that he can learn more and perhaps connect with you one day. So maybe he’s not fully versed in the latest season of that show you were raving about. He’ll remember to watch it later. Maybe he’ll add a reference from it into his next PowerPoint to catch your attention—to look ‘hip’ and ‘cool.’ But once he does snap out of his daze, he realizes his notes are all unintelligible scribbles and he’s been spacing out this entire time while the class uses microscopes to do…something. What was it? Oh, right. The lab. He should probably check to make sure everything’s going smoothly for the class.

He needs to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.

Subtle glances, the smallest of smiles, and the short comments he writes on your work in a neat, curling script—interesting conclusion, good analysis, insightful way of utilizing the data—are just a few of the habits he’s fallen into since he took an interest in you. The last exam was difficult. He overheard Amber asking you how you fared before class starts. Kaeya isn’t here today, but it’s not like it matters. You’re telling Amber all about how you thought you’d do terribly and he can’t help but smile fondly. All of that worry and anxiety and look at your score. You did so well. There’s no reason to get so scared; his tests may be difficult, but anyone can pass if they pay attention during lectures, take good notes, and study.

When class does start and he jumps into today’s topic, his eyes seem to come back to you every time he scans the class. And when he gets to the slides about the mating habits and rituals of various species, he seems to gaze at you with a little more intensity. You don’t notice it; no one really does. They’re either on their phones, trying not to fall asleep, or are avidly taking notes. You’re doing the latter, putting pen to paper in an effort to keep up and retain the information you’re scrawling on the page. You’re far too busy to notice his stare.

You’re such a diligent student. Again, he wonders what this feeling is—what it means for his career and life. He shouldn’t be focusing on you so much. It’s not right. These feelings shouldn’t exist. He shouldn’t be thinking about you or the indecent things he’d do if he had you alone for just a few minutes. He wraps up the lecture fairly quickly. Any longer and he’d start seeing all of the tables as extra spaces for filthy copulation and—he curbs that thought right there, but the irritating strain in his pants tells him it’s already taken effect.

Albedo finally realizes these feelings are more intense than he originally thought the next time you come in for class. Klee’s sitting in his chair, spinning around and humming to herself. Alice is busy yet again and her usual babysitter was occupied with work. So Albedo’s on Klee duty for the day. His students file in as usual. You’re sandwiched between Kaeya and Amber as the three of you walk in, talking about some party you went to over the weekend. A party, he thinks. Those aren’t good for your grades. Kaeya takes notice of Klee before you do and he smiles at the girl once the chair stops spinning. She’s ogling at the class with large, curious eyes and when she notices Kaeya’s friendly expression she beams at him.

Klee slides off of the chair and tugs at Albedo’s pant leg. It’s a needy gesture. He’s already started class and he can’t afford to get distracted. He pats at her hand, an indication for her to wait. But she’s insistent. He sighs.

“I apologize for the disruption. This is my little sister.” She stands on the tips of her toes and peers out at everyone from behind Albedo’s desk. “Go on. Introduce yourself.”

She nods and exclaims in a cheery tone, “I’m Klee!”

“Hi, Klee.” Your voice permeates the air. Albedo’s gaze locks onto you and the smile that graces your lips. “Nice to meet you.”

She nods in agreement, her attention stolen by the box of chalk lying on the desk. She reaches for it and Albedo pushes it into her hands.

“I hope you’ll all be able to focus regardless of her presence. Now that that’s been established, let’s continue where we left off last class.”

Klee’s emptying the chalk onto the floor while he lectures and she goes through each piece before picking one that pleases her. Then she’s up on her feet, reaching as high as she can to doodle a flower on the chalkboard. Albedo notices you watching Klee, a happy glimmer in your eyes. He’s not even bothered that you aren’t paying attention. Maybe, he wonders to himself, you might want children of your own. Maybe he could be the one to—no. Never mind.

Focus.

By the time class is over, Klee has massacred the chalkboard in scribbles and doodles alike, gone through papers and crayons, and has nearly spun herself sick on his chair. You’re on your way out with Kaeya and Amber, calling out a farewell to an exhausted Albedo, when Klee rushes over to you. She’s holding something. Albedo watches, intrigued, as she shyly passes the paper to you and says, “I drew you because you have a really nice smile and I wanted to draw it. This is you and this is Klee. And this is my big brother at the front. He’s teaching us about lizards and frogs. See? I drew them on the desk, but my green crayon broke so I had to use red. Do you like it?”

Your brow is furrowed as you analyze the scribbles and colors and then your entire face brightens. Kaeya and Amber chuckle, complimenting Klee on her artistic abilities. But Albedo doesn’t care about their opinions. He only wants to hear what you think and, lucky for him, you voice your thoughts.

“I love it,” you admit, holding the drawing close to your chest. Close to your heart. “Thank you. You made me look so nice.”

“You can keep it!” Content with your approval, Klee skips back over to Albedo’s side. Kaeya and Amber are already in the hallway, beckoning you to follow. You spare one last glance at Klee before locking eyes with Albedo. And then you wave, turn away, and leave the room. “Bye bye! See you later! Come back soon!” Klee’s enthusiastic shouts follow you down the hall.

Albedo can’t take it anymore. You’re too good for this world. Too kind and pure. You’d make a perfect babysitter. You’d make a perfect mother and he could give you—stop that. Focus.

He’s started reading through your file. As soon as he got his hands on it, he couldn’t stop himself. He does some searching and soon finds your social media accounts. He’s relieved when one of them is set to public. He peruses your posts, reading the cute captions and admiring the photos. He saves most of them to his phone, compiles all of them in a photo album titled Someone Special. You’ve become an imprint in his brain—a ghost who lives rent-free. Always appearing in his dreams. Always doing so well in his class. Never complaining. Always smiling. Acting so very kind to Klee.

He’s obsessed.

Albedo’s browsing online in incognito mode. He doesn’t even realize he’s looking at sites that sell collars, duct-tape, handcuffs, and just about everything a kidnapper could ever dream of. When he blinks, the sites are all gone. He’s closed out of every tab. No way. It’s too risky. He’s not a criminal. He’s not a kidnapper. He’s not doing any of this. It’s just a foolish thought—a sleep-deprived daydream.

Although most of those items did look affordable.

The semester seems to fly by after midterms. In just a few weeks, you’ll be readying yourself for his final and after that he’ll never see you again. Unless you take the other courses he teaches. But if you don’t do that, you’ll remain in his mind as a memory, always out of reach. Never truly tangible.

It’s a gloomy morning. Everyone’s tired. No one really wants to do much of anything. He couldn’t get much sleep the night before and he sits at his desk and waits for everyone to settle in. He overhears your laughter and his ears tune in. And it’s then when he hears the most world-shattering news.

“It’s not that romantic, Amber! I lost the other necklace, so my boyfriend got another.” You’re avoiding her gaze as you fiddle with the chain around your neck. “He just saw how much I liked it and decided to get me the same one.”

“And you haven’t even fucked? Come on.”

“Kaeya!” Amber glares at him.

“What? Even I wouldn’t go through the trouble of looking for a discontinued necklace! Desperate guys resort to desperate measures and I am not part of that sad category.”

“Like my boyfriend’s desperate.” You roll your eyes, unamused. “You’re too much sometimes.”

It rains during the entirety of his class and it continues to rain for the rest of the morning.

Albedo realizes you aren’t on the market. You’re in love with someone. You have someone to call your own. He’s just a fool trapped in a one-sided love. Not even love. It’s an obsession. He has to stop now before he does something irresponsible. But he can’t. Not until he knows you’re his.

Finals week looms. Albedo’s stocked up on lots of interesting supplies. He rifles through lab equipment and considers taking small samples of the chemicals locked away in cabinets—a space he happens to have access to. There’s a special room dedicated to a special someone in his house, complete with soundproofed walls, a heavy lock and chains, and enough amenities for it to be considered comfortable.

When you arrive to class early and greet him with that smile he cherishes so dearly, a thought occurs to him. Should he let you take the final? There’s not really any point in it. You won’t be needing the grade anyways.

#yandere #yandere albedo #tw: age gap #tw: student-teacher relationship #tw: student teacher relationship #slight n/sfw #n/sfw #i had too many thoughts with this one orz #meraki faves #🍽💭 anon #genshin chit chat

585 notes · View notes

tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister reader #shelby!reader #baby!shelby #baby shelby #alfie solomons x baby!shelby #alfie solomons platonic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb

1K notes · View notes

eliselovely · 3 years

Text

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: period typical sexism, controlling parents, vampirism, blood drinking, explicit sex

People had tried to warn you against getting involved with him, society told tales of occult, blood drinking monsters who loved nothing more than to feed on young beautiful women. Many of your acquaintances claimed that he was one of them intent on keeping you as a source of life blood and pleasure.

They may have been right, but either way, you couldn’t care less.

~~~~

Dr. Kreizler’s hand was cold to the touch when you shook it during your introduction, but you thought nothing of it, as it was a bitterly cold New Year’s Eve. Theodore is the one that introduced you two, your family was long time friends of the Roosevelt family so you were always present at these sorts of events.

Naturally you were aware of Kreizler, it was almost impossible to be a member of New York high society and not have heard of the infamous Laszlo Kreizler, the harsh spoken alienist who was said to be able to read your very thoughts. Many people you know have claimed to meet him at one point or another, citing how small he could make a person feel with just his gaze. You didn’t feel any of those things in that moment though, you just felt drawn to him, like a bolt drawn ever closer to a magnet.

You spent the night by his side, sharing quick witted conversation and a dance or two. When the clock struck midnight and the year 1897 began, he took your hand in his and left a soft kiss on your knuckles. His dark eyes never left yours throughout the intimate gesture, his cold hand cooling your overly warm one; you were hooked and so was he.

~~~~

The next time you saw him was purely by coincidence during a dinner and Delmonico’s where your father was attempting to secure you a husband. In your opinion, this practice of marriage for the sake of status was demeaning and outdated. Not to mention that the man your father wished for you to marry was extremely dull, so who were you to blame if your attention wandered? Especially after the familiar figure of Dr. Laszlo Kreizler walked into the dining room wearing perfectly tailored evening clothes.

He caught you staring almost immediately as if he had felt it, you held his gaze though, something inside you deciding to be bold. He gave you a small smile and tilted his head towards the others at your table, you returned his smile and gave him a slight eye roll as you turned back to whatever was being discussed.

You managed to keep up with your group’s conversation throughout the rest of the night while still making occasional eye contact with Laszlo over your father’s shoulder. It was almost as if the two of you were having a conversation of your own, one that Laszlo was eager to continue when your two parties were waiting for hansoms in front of the restaurant. You watched as Laszlo’s companion boarded a hansom, leaving the doctor free to make his way over to greet you officially.

“Good evening,” Laszlo said, not only to you, but to your parents as well, having seen and understood exactly what the purpose of tonight’s dinner was.

“Good evening Dr. Kreizler,” you responded politely, turning to introduce him to your parents.

Laszlo shook your father’s hand, silently relishing the slightly shocked look on your mother’s face as she realized who exactly was speaking with them. Your mother was one of those society women who liked to gossip that Dr. Kreizler could read thoughts like some occult monster. Your father on the other hand thought he was a brilliant man, having read some of his work and heard stories from Theodore.

After a few minutes of small talk, Laszlo’s carriage pulled up to the curb and a young boy jumped down from the driver’s seat.

“Headed home Doctor?” the boy asked.

“Yes Stevie, your work for tonight is almost done,” Laszlo teased before turning back to you and your family. “I’m afraid this is where I take my leave, it was lovely speaking with you, I would very much enjoy the opportunity to dine with you in the future.”

Though he was speaking most directly to your father, you had an inkling that he was talking to you; whether that was because of the pull you felt towards the doctor or the sly smile he sent your way you couldn’t say.

~~~~~

Your father was keen to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer of dining together, much to your mother’s annoyance. You on the other hand were thrilled that you got to spend more time with the man you had so quickly become enthralled with.

Soon enough, you and your family were sitting with the man in question in the dining room of Delmonico’s. You were situated directly across the table from Kreizler, giving you the perfect opportunity to keep your attention and gaze directed at him. You had no doubt that he noticed you staring at him as he conversed with your father about the matters of the mind that he had spent so many years studying. Your father was hanging on every word the doctor said, and unbeknownst to you was already planning out how to ask Dr. Kreizler if he would be interested in courting you.

As your party left the restaurant, your father lagged behind you and your mother in order to get a moment alone with Dr. Kreizler to pose the question of your courtship.

“Dr. Kreizler,” your father began when you and your mother were out of ear shot. “You and my daughter obviously hold respect and admiration for each other, and I must admit I hold you in high regard myself. Given all of this information, I would like to offer my daughter’s courtship if you would be interested.”

Dr. Kreizler did well to hide his triumph at the proposition, the quest for your father’s permission to court you had been on his mind well before he asked your family to dine with him.

“I would love nothing more than that,” he replied sincerely. “Though naturally I will not force her to do this if she does not wish to, I would very much prefer to ask her myself.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” your father agrees.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” Dr. Kreizler asked as you stepped outside the restaurant, coincidentally in the same spot that you two conversed the last time the two of you were here together.

“Of course,” you said, following him a few steps away from your parents. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, you have nothing to worry about,” he assured, reaching to grasp your hand in his. “I have spoken to your father and gained his blessing to court you if you so wish.”

You were stunned for a moment, not knowing if this was indeed real life. The man you had been enchanted by at your first introduction, the man you couldn’t get out of your head since the first time you laid eyes on him was asking to court you.

“I know it seems a bit quick as we have only known each other for a short time but I will not deny my attraction to you, but if you do not wish to do this, I will not force you,” he rambled before you cut him by squeezing the cold hand that held yours.

“Yes,” you all but whispered. “Yes Dr. Kreizler, yes.”

“Good,” he chuckled with an almost shy smile. “Then we will have to do away with titles, I hope you are comfortable calling me by my name instead.”

“Yes,” you said again, this time more confidently. “Laszlo, I would love to court you.”

~~~~

Your mother was aghast when she found out you had accepted Laszlo’s offer of courtship, claiming once again that he was somehow influencing you to say yes. You overheard her gossiping to your aunties over tea, telling them that he had charmed your father into giving his blessing. You had to stop yourself from laughing when your Aunt Millie said he was going to whisk you away to marry you and never allow you out again. Even months into your courtship you would catch your mother whispering snide comments to friends and relatives at every opportunity.

In truth, Laszlo was lovely, he took you to evenings at the opera and the ballet, walks through the Metropolitan and when the weather turned warm enough, walks in the park and lunch at the teahouse. Your family hosted dinners, and had even invited him to the annual Independence Day party, somehow it didn’t occur to you that you had never been to his home.

If that fact had occurred to you, you may have questioned him about it. You may have questioned him about a lot of things if you had realized them earlier. Why his hands were always so cold, why even in the rare moments that you managed to fluster him, there was never any blush to his cheeks. Why indeed was it so easy for him to charm your father so quickly, why you seemed to yearn for his presence when he wasn’t around. You’d find out soon, just how intensely correct your mother had been when she gossiped about him being some occult monster. You’d also find out soon enough just how much you didn’t care.

~~~~

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” Laszlo blurted on one of your walks.

“I would love to,” you agreed. “Delmonico’s?”

“No,” he corrects, with a shy little laugh. “I’d like to host for once.”

“Really?” you asked with a smile of your own.

“Yes, there is something I would like to ask you,” he admitted. Laszlo’s statement caused you to stop in your tracks.

“You could just ask me now,” you teased, trying to get him to reveal something.

“As much as I would like to, this is something I would much rather talk to you about in a private setting,” Laszlo urged. His tone was light, like the topic of conversation was nothing for you to worry about, but his body language said otherwise. He held his right hand in his left, keeping his gaze downcast in spite of your attempts to make eye contact.

“Laszlo you’re scaring me,” you warned.

“Nothing to be afraid of liebling,” he soothed, dropping his right hand back into his pocket and cradling your cheek with his left, finally meeting your eyes again. “It’s just my own anxieties.”

“Promise?” you prompted.

“Of course,” Laszlo ensured. “I am simply unpracticed in vulnerability.”

“I would point out the irony of that statement, but I’m sure you are fully aware,” you joked, not entirely convinced that all was truly well.

Later that evening, Laszlo sent Stevie in the calash to pick you up. You had spent the entire afternoon after your walk preparing for your evening, trying on almost every dress you own in an attempt to find one that would not only be appropriate for an evening in, but dressed up enough to make an impression. It’s not like you needed to try, you had been courting long enough that he had seen you fully dressed up for parties and nights at the opera, but you wanted to look your best.

Even as Stevie pulled the carriage to a halt, nerves stirred in your gut. The boy hopped down and offered you a hand as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the night breeze giving you a slight chill as you walked towards the front door.

“The doctor said you can just head right in,” Stevie called as he climbed back into the driver’s seat to bring the horse and calash to the stable.

“Thank you Stevie,” you called back.

You could see warm light through the window in the front door, you could imagine him wearing one of his many emerald green waistcoats that hugged his soft stomach. Maybe he had forgone a jacket, maybe he even had his sleeves rolled up. Despite Stevie telling you to head right in, you still knocked before opening the front door.

“Laszlo, I’m here,” you called into the house. “Stevie told me I could come in.”

“Yes, please, come in,” Laszlo called back. “I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” you said, mostly to yourself as you stepped into the parlor. You let your eyes wander around the room as you took in his home for the first time. There was a grand piano by the front window with a collection of music sitting on the stand, books lined the built-in shelves, some titles and authors you recognized and some you didn’t. There was a small fire going in the hearth in order to drive away the autumn evening chill. A phonograph sat nearby the fireplace, the stack of recordings on the shelf next to it making it apparent that it was used often.

“Welcome,” Laszlo greeted from behind you. You were slightly ashamed to admit that he had made you jump. “Apologies liebling, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention,” you dismissed. You took a moment to take him in, you were right about him wearing one of his signature green waistcoats, no jacket, just as you had hoped for. This was the most casual you had ever seen him, but he was still possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“Dinner will be served soon, would you like to sit?” he offered.

“To be honest Las, I’d just like to know what question was so pressing to you,” you admitted. “It’s been on my mind all afternoon.”

“Will you not allow me to romance you first?” he joked, reaching out to take your hand. His was cold as usual, but you barely noticed despite the warmth of the room.

“Laszlo,” you chided lightly. “You can romance me after.”

“We should sit,” Laszlo insisted. “There are some things I wish to tell you.”

“You’re scaring me again,” you warned as he led you to one of the plush sofas.

“I know liebling, but I promise everything will be alright,” he soothed. “First of all, I’d like to tell you that I love you very much and from the first moment I saw you I knew I wanted to be with you.”

You felt your heart soar at his words, but his body language yet again did little to calm your nerves.

“I do hope you feel the same about me, and I would very much like to marry you, but there are a few things about me that you should know before you make up your mind.”

It felt like all the air had been driven from your lungs and you felt yourself start to tremble.

“I have no doubt you have heard the rumors about me, saying that I am something other than human. They are not entirely incorrect.”

You felt frozen, sure that the pounding in your ears was your heartbeat. You could hear Laszlo’s housekeeper placing the dinner on the table in the dining room behind you, the tension in the parlor preventing her from interrupting.

“I would never hurt you, I love you very much. If you wish to leave, I understand and I will respect your decision.”

Your eyes were brimmed with tears as your mind raced. Laszlo had just asked to marry you, and in the same breath admitted to being what your mother gossiped about.

“Was my mother right about you?” you asked in a shaky voice. “Are you some bloodthirsty monster that preys on womens’ desires?”

“No liebling,” Laszlo denied.

“Then explain,” you demanded, fighting the urge to pull your hand out of his grasp. “What are you?”

“I am what most people refer to as a vampire,” he began.

“Like Carmilla?” you said with an incredulous chuckle.

“If it helps you understand, then yes,” he laughed.

“Don’t vampires burn up in the sun?” you asked, that being the first question to come to your mind.

“No, that is purely fiction,” he explained. “Would you like to move this conversation to the dining room so we can eat before our dinner gets cold?”

You could tell that he was attempting to diffuse some of the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, but you nodded anyway and let him lead you to the dining room. The table was intimately set, with a place at the head of the table for him and a place directly to his left for you, candles placed in the center of the table gave the room a romantic atmosphere.

“I can tell you have more questions liebling,” Laszlo prompted as he poured wine for the both of you. “Do not be afraid to ask, you won’t offend me.”

“Well,” you hummed, taking a sip of wine while you collected your thoughts. “You can obviously eat normal food, but don’t you still need to…”

“Consume blood?” Laszlo finished for you. “Yes.”

“Where do you- How- You don’t hurt people do you?” you stammered.

“No, I do not hurt people,” he promised, taking a moment to appreciate your kind heart. “Believe it or not there are people willing to let creatures like me…”

“Feed?” you offered.

“Yes,” he affirmed.

“I believe it,” you said, just above a whisper.

Laszlo lifted his gaze to meet yours only to find you staring down at your plate with an intense blush on your face. He could hear your little heart pounding in your ribcage, he was finding it dreadfully distracting. At his silence, you glanced up at him to find him staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Las?” you questioned.

“Apologies my dear, I was expecting a different reaction,” he explained.

“Understandable,” you agreed. “I imagine people would be quite fearful when they find out about something like this.”

“And yet, you seem to have adjusted to the knowledge quite quickly,” Laszlo observed.

He was right and you knew it, it felt as though deep down, a little part of you had believed the rumors your mother and aunties loved to spread. Perhaps you were scared, maybe that was the feeling stirring in your gut, or maybe it was something else entirely. But you didn’t care, you loved him.

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I think part of me suspected something even though I didn’t know what.”

“Your unconscious mind was aware of something even though your conscious mind wasn’t,” he explained in what you call his Dr. Kreizler voice. You couldn’t help but giggle at his change of tone, your reaction causing Laszlo’s eyebrows to furrow. “Did I say something funny?”

“No darling,” you said with another small giggle. “Your tone tends to change when you speak about matters of the mind.”

Laszlo let out a chuckle of his own at your comment, the outer corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. You loved it when he laughed; he was usually such a stoic person, so on the occasions that he did laugh, you felt your heart do somersaults.

“Laszlo?” you said in a more serious tone.

“Yes dear one?” he responded, his beloved smile dropping from his face.

“How did you become a vampire?” you asked, with trepidation in your voice.

“An unfortunate encounter during one of my interviews with inmates, the man attacked me as soon as the guard left us alone. I can only assume he hadn’t fed in months and so took the opportunity I presented him with,” Laszlo told you. “Luckily however, the guard was close enough to hear me and intervene before I was killed.”

You were expecting a horrifying story, but still his words caused you to gasp.

“Because he did not drain me, nor did he have the chance to seal the wound he gave me, his venom entered my bloodstream and triggered my transformation,” he finished.

“When did this happen?” you asked. “Does anyone else know, I mean, other than the people who let you feed?”

“Only about 4 years ago,” he answered. “And yes, a few people. Naturally Cyrus and Stevie as they are the people who helped me to survive the transformation and told me about how to find people willing to donate their blood. John Moore found out by accident when purely by coincidence, the person I fed from worked out of the same establishment that John was visiting for a different vice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the odds of running into someone you knew at one of hundreds of brothels in New York City were slim, but if the person you saw was John Moore, then the odds were slightly better.

“Sara Howard knows as well,” Laszlo added with a fond smile. “Though she figured it out through detective work and when she was sure, confronted me in my office at the institute.”

“Does Theodore know?” you questioned.

“No, I doubt he would have introduced us if he had,” he said.

“I don’t think he would handle the knowledge very well,” you mused.

“Neither do I,” Laszlo agreed.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you allowed all the new information to sink in, the tension from earlier had almost completely disappeared. Taking a sip from your forgotten wine, you remembered something from Laszlo’s original admission.

“Were you serious about wanting to marry me?” you asked, returning your attention to the man next to you.

“Yes, entirely,” Laszlo confirmed. “If you’ll have me, I would very much like to be your husband.”

“And I would very much like to be your wife,” you replied, tears welling in your eyes for the second time tonight, though this time was for a very different reason.

Laszlo’s face lit up brighter than the morning sun as he stood, took your hand and pulled you up and into a bone crushing hug. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face into his neck.

It was as if Laszlo’s heart had started to beat again when you accepted his proposal, his senses going wild when you returned his hug. He was surrounded by your scent, he could feel and hear your heart hammering, the heat from your body seeping into his.

“I love you meine schatz,” Laszlo whispered into your ear.

His words and proximity sent a shiver down your spine and something told you that the feeling you had stirring in your gut wasn’t fear at all, but instead something closer to desire.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, hoping that Laszlo had missed the way you reacted to his words, but knowing he probably hadn’t. Your suspicion was confirmed when he pulled back, the look in his eyes almost lustful as his hand came up to cradle your face.

“Can I kiss you Schatz?” he asked politely.

You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay even. You closed your eyes as he leaned forward, his soft lips meeting yours and setting off sparks behind your eyes. This was the first time you had ever kissed anyone, and all too soon it was over. Laszlo was smiling down at you when you opened your eyes, his pupils blown wide as he gazed into yours.

“Can we do that again?” you asked breathlessly.

Instead of responding with words, Laszlo leaned forward once again to place his lips on yours, the kiss was deeper this time as you let him guide you. His beard scratched lightly against your chin, his mustache tickled your top lip, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care, lost completely in the feeling of his mouth on yours. You let out a content sigh, and Laszlo took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Again, you felt Laszlo start to pull away, though this time you tried in vain to follow, not ready to let this feeling go. He didn’t go far though, just far enough to look into your eyes.

“Would it be improper for me to ask you to take me to bed?” you asked timidly.

“Yes, but when have I ever cared much for propriety?” Laszlo teased. “Are you sure you want to though, I would hate for you to think we had to just because we kissed.”

“I’m sure Las,” you insisted. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it on more than a few occasions.”

“Naughty girl,” Laszlo mirthlessly scolded before leaning down to kiss you again. This one only lasted a moment or two until he pulled back to lead you out of the dining room and up the stairs, he could hear your heart pounding faster as you neared his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed behind you, Laszlo reached up to undo the buttons on the front of your dress, making quick work of them even though he only had use of one of his hands. In turn, you began to undo the buttons on Laszlo’s waistcoat and shirt, only pausing to let your dress slide off and to the floor. Slipping one hand under his shirt, you used the other to push his suspenders off his shoulders, his skin was cold to the touch, but remarkably soft.

“You’re cold,” you pointed out.

“That tends to happen when you don’t have blood of your own,” he joked.

The touch of his cold hand on your shoulder made you jump, Laszlo only chuckled as he leaned down to kiss along your jawline. He nipped softly at the skin of your neck as he reached around you to untie the laces of your corset, his hand frantically loosening the strings in his desperation to feel your warm skin. When that too was loose enough, Laszlo gave it a tug resulting in your corset falling to the floor.

You were struck then with the intimacy of your current state, you standing there in your under clothes, Laszlo’s shirt undone and untucked. Only when the back of your knees bumped into the edge of the bed did you realize he had been walking you backwards while he ravished your neck with kisses. He took his time undressing you the rest of the way, kissing you wherever he could.

“You’re so warm,” Laszlo almost moaned. “I fear I may become addicted.”

“I’d be alright with that,” you respond, your voice coming out breathy and soft.

You felt him smile against your skin as he left one more kiss on your neck before stepping back. His gaze was dark and almost predatory as he let his eyes wander your naked body for the first time, his staring making you blush all the way from the tips of your ears down to your chest, your confidence from earlier had almost completely disappeared.

“Laszlo,” you breathed. “Touch me, please.”

“Of course dear one,” he promised with a grin, it may have been your imagination, but you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of fangs behind his lips.

Laszlo’s touch made you shiver as he ghosted his fingertips against your shoulders and down your chest, you couldn’t help but let out a moan when he teasingly pinched your nipple.

“Las,” you whispered with your moan. “Please.”

“What’s wrong liebling?” he prompted with a light mocking tone. “I thought you wanted me to touch you, is that not what I’m doing?”

“Please don’t tease me,” you begged, leaning into his touch.

“Be good and I’ll give you exactly what you need,” he promised. “Tell me what you want.”

“I- I want, I need you,” you stammered. “Please, I’ll be good.”

“I know liebling, you’re just so cute when you beg, I can’t help myself,” Laszlo confessed, finally trailing his hand down your waist, his fingers delving between the folds of your cunt. You couldn’t help the needy whimper that escaped your throat as he circled your clit with a feather-like touch. “Have you ever touched yourself here before?”

You shook your head at his question, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Then allow me to show you the pleasures available to you.” His voice was dripping with honey as he laid you down on the bed, he seemed huge as he hovered over you.

“Please,” you begged again, you were growing desperate at this point. You watched as he rose from the bed just long enough to rid himself of his trousers and underclothes before coming back to kneel between your spread legs. Your moans flowed freely as his fingers circled your clit again, his weaker hand resting on your hip keeping you grounded as your fiance pleasured you. Slowly, he pushed his fingers against your entrance causing your hips to buck into his hand. Laszlo chuckled quietly before pushing inside, his cold fingers filling you was like nothing you could have ever imagined.

“You’re so warm, liebling,” Laszlo praised, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“I want it,” you keened. “Please.”

“Soon, dear one,” Laszlo whispered. “Soon.”

You opened your mouth to beg again, but all that came out were moans. His thumb was rubbing quick, tight circles on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out. There was a hot sensation growing in your core, getting stronger the more he moved, you didn’t know what it was, but you knew you wanted more.

“Cum for me liebling,” Laszlo instructed, he made it clear that this was not a request as his fingers sped up.

It felt like something inside of you snapped and it felt like the heat that had been growing inside you was doused with ice water. A rush of pleasure tore through your body, your back arching off the bed and a cry left your lips.

“Enchanting,” Laszlo mused as he watched you come down from your intense high. “Would you still like me to continue?”

“Yes,” you urged, eyes popping open to meet his gaze. “Please Laszlo, I need it.”

“Well then,” he teased. “I suppose you’ve earned it.”

All you could do was whine as he pulled his fingers from your heat. You didn’t have to wait long for relief though, as he quickly notched his cock at your entrance. As he pushed into you, he leaned forward to brace himself on his elbow which he placed next to your head. You cried out again as he bottomed out.

“Laszlo,” you whined, you had never felt more full.

“I know dear one,” he soothed. “Breathe for me.”

You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath, sucking air back into your lungs you felt the blood rush to your head making you feel like you were floating. You clung desperately to his shoulders as he slowly began to move, your nails digging into his cool, soft skin. He dropped his head to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck, laying gentle kisses along your jawline.

“You feel like heaven liebling,” Laszlo moaned, his voice raspy and lustful. “You’re doing so well, such a good girl.”

You moaned in response, his words and his cock making coherent thought almost impossible. The sound of your moans mingled with his praises and sounds of skin on skin as he built up his pace until he was properly fucking you into the mattress. It wasn’t long until you felt another orgasm incoming.

“La-ah, Laszlo, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, your voice coming out more whiny than you would have liked.

“So am I,” he answered, leaning down to kiss you. Your lips felt like fire on his, the feeling sending him over the edge.

His moans were music to your ears, the feeling of his cock twitching inside you spurred your own orgasm. Lights danced behind your eyes as you came down from your high, your breath mixing with Laszlo’s between kisses and worn out moans, he let himself drop softly, his arm no longer able to hold him up.

If someone asked you how long you spent like that, his weight acting as a comforting blanket, his face pressed into your neck, you couldn’t have told them. He pressed soft, lazy kisses to your skin as you rubbed your hands up and down his back. The thing that snapped you out of your blissful haze was the feeling of Laszlo’s sharp teeth dragging lightly on your skin. You couldn’t help the little gasp you let out.

“I’m sorry,” Laszlo apologized, rushing to pull away from you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” you begged, holding tight to his shoulders. “I’m not scared, you just startled me is all… I, I wouldn’t mind, if you…”

“Liebling, I couldn’t ask you for that,” he tried to deny.

“You’re not,” you promised. “I’m asking you for it, that way, you wouldn’t have to go to those establishments anymore.”

There were very few things that could strike Laszlo Kreizler as speechless, and hearing this desire of yours surely was one.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Laszlo said, doing absolutely nothing to convince you otherwise.

“I’ll let you know if it’s too much, but I trust you, and I want to try, to know what it’s like,” you urged.

“There’s no convincing you, is there?” he teased, chuckling at the quick shake of your head. “Alright dear one, just let me clean up our little mess first, ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, letting go of him so he could stand up. You watched as he went to retrieve a damp washcloth from the bathroom across the hall, a smile on his lips when he returned to see you laying fucked out in his bed. His touch was feather light on your skin, as he cleaned away the mess from between your thighs.

“Ready?” Laszlo asked, setting the cloth on his bedside table.

“Yes,” you reassured, climbing into his lap when he beckoned you closer. “Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment,” he explained as he brushed the stray hairs away from your neck. “I promise I’ll take care of you, the pain will only last a second or two and after that it should give you pleasure. When I’m done, I’ll make sure it’s healed.”

You listened intently while he explained everything, trying to suppress the smile at his ‘Dr. Kreizler voice’.

“Yes, Dr. Kreizler,” you teased when he finished, your smile coming to the surface.

“Ready?” he asked with a small smirk of his own.

You just nodded, the gravity of your position beginning to sink in.

He leaned forward slowly, pressed a sweet little kiss to your throat, and sunk his teeth in. You yelped in pain before relaxing into his embrace as a euphoric feeling took over you. The feeling of your blood being sucked from your veins should have made you uncomfortable, it should have terrified you, it should have made you feel a whole multitude of things, but it didn’t. You trusted him, Laszlo would never hurt you. Never.

#laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler smut

195 notes · View notes

ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

playing with fire (part 1)

word count: 23k

fluff, smut (warning: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father)

(series masterlist)

“is there any other way you could pay?” the woman behind the desk asked, stout and soft spoken with sympathy in her eyes.

she probably has to have this conversation with students a lot, tell them that their tuition payment didn’t go through or that they’re not eligible for government support.

or that the athletics department needed more scholarship money, successfully rendering you, one of the many photography majors on campus, unable to pay for your last semester of college.

“a loan of some sort or another scholarship, maybe?” she tried to help, “i could send over an e-mail of ones you might be eligible for.”

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, attempting to calm all the anxiety and stress violently making its way through your body.

“y-yes, that would be great, thank you,” you barely manage to get out, hoping and praying to some unknown force above that you don’t burst into tears.

you were nearing the end of the fall semester, the last fall semester you ever anticipated of having, when you found out just last week that you were no longer eligible for your scholarship.

in a short, curt e-mail explaining that, while you kept up your gpa and never strayed from the requirements, they’ve maxed out their amount of funding and are looking to use that money elsewhere.

“can they do that!?” your best friend and roommate of four years yelps, gucci sunglasses atop her head as she stomps around your shared, off-campus apartment.

“they can’t seriously do that! you’ve been a straight a student since you started and now they wanna take it away?! before your last semester of senior year?!”

“eunbi, it’s not ideal but i’ve already come to terms with it,” you explain gently, leaving out the part where you did, in fact, have a break down right outside the bursar office only an hour ago. “i’ll just save up money and come back in the fall to finish.”

“that’s so not right or fair though!” she whines, something about the concept of not getting what she wants unfamiliar to your roommate.

you first met park eunbi during freshmen move in day, your two raggedy luggages and beat up backpacks an embarrassing contrast to the multiple louis vuitton travel bags she lunged in.

you were intimidated for all of three seconds, before she looked at you with a smile and threw her arms around you like a long lost best friend.

it was obvious she came from money, the way she spoke and carried herself so confidently before her parents came in and introduced themselves.

they were both gorgeous and tall and looked far too young to have an 18-year-old daughter, covered in fancy jewelry and expensive looking clothing.

her dad, who introduced himself as mr. park seonghwa, didn’t seem to bat an eye at your more humble appearance. he reminded you a lot of eunbi, honest and genuine in the way he was kind and nonjudgemental.

mrs. park seemed nice enough, too, though you could see the judgement behind her pretty eyes.

the way she sneered at your bags and looked down at your hands, so different from her and her daughter’s not covered in diamond bracelets or acrylic nails.

“did we just miss your parents?” she asked, her voice just as pretty and rich sounding as she appeared; you bet if she laughed, she’d had have that melodic, care-free laugh all rich women seem to have.

“oh, uh, yeah, i’m sorry,” you apologized, lying through your teeth with a shy smile and averting gaze - you had to move in by yourself, the same way you traveled here all alone with no one to send you off.

“it’s okay, we just thought it’d be nice to meet them,” eunbi’s father interjects, the smile on his handsome face causing your stomach to swoop - how is he a dad?

“we were gonna take eunbi to an early dinner before we left. do you wanna join us?”

“oh no, it’s okay, i’d hate to intru-”

“no, you’re coming, c’mon!” your new roommate whined, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the door. “we’ll be able to get a lot of dessert out of them. probably the whole menu if we wanted.”

and you saw that over the years, eunbi knew she could, in fact, get whatever she wanted from her parents. they had the money and the means and the fondness in their hearts for their only daughter.

but it never seemed to get to your friend.

she was always kind and thoughtful of others and never said or did anything to suggest she was just a brainless, spoiled rich kid.

even in your guy’s second year when she found out you were going to school on an academic scholarship, she didn’t care. she didn’t turn her nose up or think you were lesser than her for not having the funds; if anything, it only made her praise you more.

that you were smart and ambitious enough to work under the strict guidelines of a prestigious scholarship.

“i know it’s not fair,” you mumble, not wanting to cry or have another anxiety attack over this matter. “but it is what it is. i’ll figure it out.”

she lets out a dejected, defeated sigh so uncharacteristic of the girl, plopping down on her pink, fluffy bed and bringing you down with her.

“we’ll sell feet pics over winter break,” she concludes after a few minutes of silence, wrapping her arm around yours and curling her body into yours. “you know how much money we can get from that? and we have pretty feet,” she says, sticking her leg up and wiggling her red, painted toes.

there’s a little less tightness in your chest and a little heaviness lifted in your stomach as you let out a giggle, looking over at your best friend who truly got you through the last four years of school.

you really don’t know how you’d still be functioning if it weren’t for her.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m serious,” she giggles out, flipping on her side and causing the bed to bounce under you. “you’re still good with coming tomorrow, right? i told my parents you were.”

she had invited you to her house for the winter break this year, the girl not wanting you to spend a month alone in the apartment.

you’ve shared with her how strained your relationship with your parents has been, really, since birth. never seeing eye to eye to them and feeling as if they never had your best interests at heart.

when most kids get full ride scholarships, their parents are immensely proud. bragging about how smart they are and telling them how proud they were.

but your parents were the opposite.

they didn’t want you to up and leave them to pursue an education. they thought you were gonna stay with them forever, not go to college like them and help run the family business back home in your tiny little hometown.

it was your dream to go to college and get a degree, though, so that’s exactly what you did for yourself; but they saw it as a giant fuck you.

saw it as you thinking you were better than them and basically told you to never come back if you thought you were so much smarter and better off without them.

so you’d spent every winter or summer vacation in the dorms, this year finally being the time you accepted eunbi’s invitation to stay over - reluctantly.

“i packed all my stuff, yeah,” you mumble, hands twisted into one another nervously. “but... are you sure they’re okay with it? i don’t wanna intrude or be there if i’m not wanted.”

“y/n, please,” she whines, “my mom may be a raging bitch but you know i make the rules in that house.”

“that’s not what i meant,” you mutter immediately, looking to the girl with a small frown on your lips.

although it was no secret eunbi’s mom didn’t ever seem too fond of you, always sneering at your off-brand items or questioning the logistics of why exactly you needed a scholarship to afford college, you always tried to remain polite.

smile at her and greet her happily even though there was always a thick, palpable tension between you two.

“oh but it is,” she chuckles out, the girl far too aware of what a materialistic snob her mother is. “it’s fine, i know she’s a bitch. my dad’s just coming tomorrow anyway. i told him to bring one of the bigger cars so we can lay out in the back.”

you have to bite back a snarky comment about the fact there are multiple cars in question, though the look in your eye certainly gives it away. she can only giggle and shrug her shoulders, flopping onto her back as she tells you about how excited she is to be reunited with her boyfriend.

eunbi and jiwoon have been dating since their second year of high school, going to colleges only an hour away from each other; he was just as handsome as he was kind and good to her, leaving you with no other option but to love and support the both of them.

and you try to listen to her rambling that ensues, you really do, but your mind is swirling with some slight anxiety about staying with her family for a month.

you don’t wanna make her mom even more irritated, deal with the side eyes and passive aggressive comments and overall feeling of just not being wanted.

you don’t want eunbi to feel obligated to be with you 24/7, act as a cock block to her and her boyfriend who haven’t seen each other in almost six weeks.

and maybe, you don’t want your tiny, small, miniscule crush on mr. park to make you feel any more awkward than it does, wondering how a married man who has a daughter in college is still so handsome and alluring.

it also doesn’t help that he’s just so incredibly kind, always making everyone feel so comfortable and welcomed, it’d be hard not to just develop a little, secret crush on him.

“eunbi, who is that sexy ass man who just dropped you off?” one of your suite mates asks your roommate, everyone gathering back in front of the dorm building after winter break.

it was sophomore year and you spent a month in the quiet, almost eerie college dorms alone (apart from the ra down the hall). you were grateful for everyone to return, no matter how loud or catty things were about to become.

“yeah, for real. is that your new boyfriend? he’s hotter than the last one and i didn’t even think that was possible.”

“uhhh.. no,” eunbi says, shooting the crowd of girls with lustful eyes and curious glances a look of distaste. “that’s my dad.”

and that’s when a chorus of disbelief and inappropriate comments erupted from the group of college girls.

asking how a dad could look like that while hoping and praying he’s single.

inquiring about just how much her dad’s on campus and when’s the next time he’s gonna pick her up.

about how he’s definitely hotter than her boyfriend, with a more mature and sophisticated look than these college boys.

“are they fucking serious! like how disgusting? he’s my literal father!” eunbi rages once in the dorm room, sharing a few curse words and vulgar phrases at the girl’s before stomping away from them.

“and for them to say that shit in front of me? did they think i want to hear that?”

“i know, that was so sick,” you agree, because even though you, too, think he’s attractive, it’s not something you would ever verbalize to your friend.

“like... i know he’s younger than most dads, my parents had me when they were teenagers, but shit! how sick,” she rants, throwing down her heavy designer bags and flopping on her bed.

you can tell by the look on her face how much it truly bothers her, everyone always noticing her dad and making comments like that. she handles it well, she’s always able to handle herself well, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s something that worries her.

people getting close to her to get to her dad, even if it was teachers or other moms in elementary school or her friends when she got to college.

it’s one of the many reasons you would never give away your little crush on him - because it’s not only inappropriate and uncomfortable for her to know but there’s also no need to tell her.

because it’s not like it would go anywhere.

he’s a married man and your roommate’s father, a twisted, dark, forbidden fantasy that will stay in the walls of your head and never see the light of day - no matter how thrilling and fulfilling being with him would be.

“eunbi, your dad’s gonna be here soon,” you yell into your roommate’s doorway, met with the sound of her groaned “five more minutes!” that you’ve been hearing for the past twenty.

she was on facetime with jiwoon when you went to bed around one, briefly waking to the sound of her girlish screams or high-pitched giggles three hours later; you wouldn’t be surprised if she only went to bed a few hours ago.

“you said five more minutes thirty minutes ago,” you say, stomping your way over before smacking her over the head with a pillow. she lets out a loud sigh before swatting you away, your surprisingly fast reflexes grabbing her wrist.

she peeks one eye open as a smirk covers her morning face, looking from you all dressed up and ready in your pink pleated skirt and white thigh high stockings, down to her wrist in your hold.

“that was kinda hot. and you look good. i don’t know how to act right now.”

“shut up and get your ass out of bed,” you demand, biting back a smile as you storm out of her room.

you’d been pacing around the apartment ever since you woke up at seven a.m., more and more unsettled about staying over her house as the time drew closer.

you checked to make sure you had enough clothes and chargers and skincare products for nearly an hour, finally settling the same purple suitcase you moved in with freshmen year near the door.

you hope mrs. park doesn’t notice, remembering the way she sneered at the wonky zipper and slightly stained bottom.

you also hope you can keep yourself in check, not get too nervous or flustered by eunbi’s exorbitant wealth or a new setting you don’t feel welcomed in or her hot ass father whose bones you wanna jump.

the knock at the door completely sobers you, jumping in your spot just in time to see eunbi fly across the living room to get to the door. there’s a big, happy smile on her face, ripping open the door and greeting her father in typical eunbi fashion.

“are those for me?” she asks, snatching the red box from his hands.

excitement bubbles inside the girl as she unveils twelve chocolate covered strawberries, a speciality at one of the local dessert shops just a few miles from her home.

“you shouldn’t have, dad, really. i’m much too tired to appreciate this.”

the man can only look at his daughter with a look of disdain and affection, waking up to an extremely passive aggressive text that she’d really appreciate an early morning treat from her favorite place ever and that it’d really inspire her to be ready.

but as he can currently see, given the state of her hair and pajamas pants, it didn’t at all act as a motivator.

“then maybe i should just-” but upon her father’s hand reaching out to grab the box of strawberries, the girl brings it to her body and runs away, yelling that her bags are packed and she’s just gonna wash her face.

he looks to you with a mock annoyed expression, your heart jumping in your chest as you send him a small, polite smile.

“how do you deal with her, y/n?” he asks, a smirk on his face rising as you let out a soft, slightly forced giggle - this man looks too good for his own good at ten o’clock in the morning.

“don’t talk shit about me!” she yelps before you can even think to say something, a smile lighting up his face again before he nods his head down the hall.

“i’ll bring down your girl’s bags,” he says, his tall, large frame coming toward you making your knees feel slightly wobbly.

you swear you see his eyes roam over you for the shortest of seconds, down to your shirt and exposed legs before back to your face, until he’s looking into your eyes questioningly.

totally not like someone who just checked out their daughter’s roommate - this is what you feared, your own delusionals and attraction making your crazy little brain see something that’s not there.

“her bedroom’s down that hall?”

you resist the urge to swallow nervously, begging yourself to snap out of it and remind yourself you have to deal with the man for a month. a month of his dark, piercing eyes and bright, white smile and skin so smooth and clear, it’s far too easy to forget he’s almost forty years old.

“yeah,” you barely manage to get out. “i-i can help and bring down mine.”

“no, it’s okay,” he insists, “help in getting eunbi ready. you know she’ll delay us thirty more minutes.”

you let out another strained chuckle as you nod your head, finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding when you hear his footsteps disappear down the hall and into her room.

as long as you distance yourself from him, not look him in the eye or let any sort of idea get in your head that an older, married man could want you back, this will be fine.

it’ll be a nice, calm, relaxed break actually full of interaction and socialization opposed to your usual lonely bubble of solitude.

eunbi’s not making that very easy though, when twenty minutes later, she’s opening the back door of her father’s black g-wagen and sprawling out on the black leather seats.

“where’s y/n supposed to go, eunbi?” seonghwa asked, the fatherly tone is his voice causing eunbi to let out a huff; the only time you see eunbi’s spoiled tendencies come out is around her father, the girl knowing he’ll do anything and everything for her.

and apparently, so will you.

sitting in the front seat of her car, next to her extremely hot father you’re trying to stay calm around, while she sleeps soundly in the backseat - if she didn’t invite to stay at her home, meals and bed and transportation free, you’d say she has to owe you.

“was she up all night talking to jiwoon?” mr. park asked, the past few moments of silence just as comforting as they were terrifying. it felt awkward to you, extremely tense and full of suspense, but you knew it was completely normal.

you bite down on your lip, looking back at eunbi sleeping soundly on the seat, even prepared with a fuzzy white blanket. you let out a soft giggle when you see her mouth open, the slightest bit of drool hanging from her mouth and threatening to spill on the dark leather.

“she might’ve been,” you mutter, a breathy laugh leaving her father that causes you to sneak a glance at him.

there’s not a hint of a wrinkle or imperfection on his glowing skin, black hair hanging in his face and red lips quirked into a content smile. that’s something you always noticed about him, despite his dark appearance and looming figure, he always appears to be happy.

smiles and laughs and never gives anyone without his same wealth a dirty glance - he treats everyone the same and that’s another reason you’ve taking a liking to him, not just because he’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

“y/n?” he asks, your intrusive thoughts being ripped away at the sound of his voice calling your name.

your eyes move to his and he’s watching you in slight amusement, a rampant blush creeping up on your cheeks at the way you’ve been caught. you’re quick to look away, shake your head and let out an awkward chuckle and apology.

you miss the way his eyes roam your side profile, a delightful smirk and feeling in his chest blooming before he speaks again.

“how was your semester?”

“it was good,” you say, hands placed nervously in your lap. “a lot of work on top of an internship but it was good.”

“and you girls are almost done,” he hums lowly, one hand atop the steering wheel while his eyes focus on the highway in front of him. “eunbi’s been talking about a combined graduation party since the moment you guys met.”

you let out a small laugh as you remember eunbi’s plan since your second semester of freshmen year, ignoring the twinge of sadness in your stomach.

you could’ve never anticipated delaying your college career when you first received your scholarship, happy and proud and eternally grateful for the opportunity.

but you suppose you’re lucky enough to have gotten this far, and delaying one last semester is nothing compared to people who never get to go to college - but it still makes you feel upset.

you think you have the right to feel disappointed and sad, the lingering sick feeling in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“is it okay if i open the window for a second?” you mumble to mr. park, the man looking over your face.

he presses down on the passenger window button immediately, your face met with cold air as relief floods through your body.

“are you okay? do you get car sick?” he asks, remembering how much eunbi used to get car sick (on the rare occasion she wasn’t passed out during a road trip).

“not usually,” you mumble, resting your head on the side of the door.

then again, i’m not usually freaking out about making tuition money or repressing my violent attraction to my roommate’s father.

seonghwa watches as you close your eyes for a few moment, allowing the cold, windy air to hit your face. he couldn’t help but notice the pinkish tint to your cheeks, suppressing the urge for his eyes and thoughts to wander.

you’re a college girl in the prime of her life and his daughter’s best friend, he’d be a fool to think you were blushing and nervous because of him - but he also doesn’t remember you looking like.... this.

so pretty and dressed up and pink in the face as you check him out with a soft and curious look in your eye.

“maybe try to take a nap,” he suggests, his gaze lingering back onto the road so he doesn’t look at your exposed legs. “i’ll pull off at a rest stop to get you ginger ale.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” your sweet voice says, something about it causing his insides to jump - he definitely doesn’t remember you sounding like that. “i’ll be okay. just need the window open for a little longer.”

you spend the next few minutes with the cold, december wind blowing through the car, your back pressed against the comfortable seat behind you. a chill runs through your body, goosebumps rising on your exposed thighs, but it feels better than the alternative.

potentially panicking or vomiting due to current stress of your life.

your gaze shifts to the man beside you, whether it be to check him out or ask if he’s cold unknown to you.

“are you okay with the-”

the words are stuck in your throat when you see his eyes aren’t on the road but your exposed, goose-bumpy thighs, the white lace of your thigh high stockings and pink skirt leaving little to the imagination.

you wish you could see the look in his eye, if it’s judgemental and shameful or full of lust and curiosity. if he’s wondering what you have on just a few inches under your skirt and if that’s something he even thinks about.

or maybe he’s just looking because it’s there - your skirt blowing in the wind and him caught off guard by the sight right there in his passenger seat.

“um, i think i’m good now,” you mumble, watching from your peripheral as he shifts in his seat and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

“alright, let me know if you wanna stop.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, keeping your eyes on the view in front of you.

the faint sounds of eunbi snoring behind you act as a way to ground you, remind you that these thoughts and feelings you’re having can’t stay.

maybe you have to get it our of your system now, take all the looks you can and feel all the hopefulness your delusional brain needs until you act as if eunbi’s father is a mean, disgusting, grotesque man.

not someone who gets your heart and body pounding.

you’re not sure how many songs play on the radio until you both are talking again, seonghwa looking in the rearview mirror to see his daughter still passed out on the seats.

“do you think she’ll sleep the whole time?”

he hope for his sake, she doesn’t.

you look back at eunbi sleeping soundly, the drool previously trickling down her mouth successfully making a pool on the black leather.

“probably,” you chuckle out lightly. “i have a feeling she went to bed around six.”

“shit,” he laughs out, remembering the days he used to be able to pull all nighters in college or dreaded the idea of waking up in the morning. “i can’t remember the last time i was able to stay up past one.”

“you’re not even that old, mr. park,” you tease, not sure where you got the balls to say that and feeling, at least for a few seconds, that you overstepped; but then he lets out a deep, amused chuckle and it causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“not that old, huh?” he quips, your tooth sinking into your lip at the tone of his voice. “you know i’m turning 40 in a few months, right?”

you crane your neck to look at the man in the driver’s seat, swallowing thickly when you see his eyes are already on you. there’s a certain type of lightness and teasing in them that you’ve never seen before, the man always happy and jovial but never like this.

never looking so... teasing and playful.

“yeah,” you say with a growing smirk, not being able to help your own nervous excitement. “that doesn’t seem too bad.”

the deep, low chuckle that leaves him causes your stomach to swoop, eyes wide and the small smile on your face causing him to look over you once more.

it’s shameless and bold but neither of you seem to care in that moment.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, deep brown eyes piercing through yours before his face turns teasing and.. appropriate.. “the next time eunbi tries to call me an old man or something.”

“right,” you chuckle out, cheeks burning and heart pounding as you allow yourself to break eye contact.

the ride to eunbi’s house is just over two hours, hoping and praying that it goes by quickly - because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be alone, or mostly alone, with him.

you’re thinking too much into his words and his gaze and the way he makes you feel, making you silly enough to believe that, maybe, a part of him wants you too.

the second you arrived at eunbi’s, you had already felt unwelcomed.

not only because of mrs. park, who just about sneered at your presence in her exquisite home, but because of the dozens of other socialites in the immaculately white living room.

it looked and felt almost like a hospital. a white color scheme with black accents, extremely cold and spotless - the only bit of color was in eunbi’s room where it felt like you could actually breathe.

“i’m sorry, i told her not to throw her fucking gathering today,” eunbi complained, grumpy from her nap but still happy to finally be home.

“a bunch of stuck up snobs, i swear to god. they either have to get the stick lodged so far up their asshole removed or get dicked down by their lousy excuses of-”

“eunbi,” you hear her father’s deep voice reprimand, the girl not even feeling the slightest bit of shame or embarrassment for talking that way in front of her father.

“oh, c’mon, dad, you know it’s true!” she whines in a whispered tone. “they’re the worst! and she knew me and y/n were coming today, do you really think that wasn’t a coincidence?”

because, as far as eunbi thinks, she has sinking suspicions that her mom did this solely to make you uncomfortable.

she had already been hesitant to let you stay in the first place, had eunbi not gone full on bitch mode and stubbornly proclaimed she’d spend the break with you at the apartment.

but you didn’t have to know that.

“i don’t care, it’ll just be my first christmas without my family, mom, who cares about that,” she had said, all types of manipulative and toxic behavior that she learned from the best.

she’s sure her mother was sweet and good at one point in her life, she wouldn’t have ended up with her father in the first place if she wasn’t, but money changes people.

wealth and greed and having the power to get anything you want because you flash a stack of money around or write out a check.

“i told her to have them out by dinner,” he said, his eyes moving from eunbi to you, standing there with tense shoulders and a shy, uncomfortable look on your face.

“you’re more than welcomed here, y/n,” he said, his voice low and full of kindness as he stands in eunbi’s doorway. “don’t worry about it, okay?”

you resist the urge to pout at the touched feeling in your chest, looking from the man to eunbi who’s nodding at her dad’s words.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, a phrase he swears has never effected him this deeply.

and because of that, he’s quick to haul ass out of there. tells you guys that dinner will be ready around seven and to come down whenever.

you and eunbi spend that time in her room to unpack both of your things and watch movies, her king sized bed nearly lulling you to sleep until her loud squeal and bounce of the bed causes you to jump in shock.

“y/n, don’t be mad at me please,” she whines directly in your face, all wide-eyed and cutesy as she looks at you with mock innocence.

“what did you do?” you mumble tiredly, pushing her away with the smallest of sneers.

“i’ll be back for dinner, i promise, but... is it okay if i go to jiwoon’s for a little?” she asks, cocking her head to the side before shimming closer to you. “i have to get railed so bad.”

“jesus christ, eunbi,” you snort, pushing her away again and burying your face in the pillow - you’ve never met someone who overshares as much as she does.

she plops down on her back with an unabashed giggle, popping right back up like an annoying little dog and looking at you with a smile.

“of course you can go, i’m not gonna hold you hostage here,” you say when she pulls your face away, looking at you so expectantly and sweetly, you couldn’t say no if you wanted.

“okay, but i don’t want you thinking that i’m gonna ditch you this whole time. i’m really not, y/n,” she pouts, knowing that was one of the reasons you were apprehensive about coming - that and her bitch of a mother. “i just miss him.”

a pout falls on your face as you look at eunbi and the genuine look on her face.

“bi, i’m serious, go. i want you to,” you insist, moving a piece of her tangled hair away from her face. “we were just gonna be up here anyway. i’ll probably take a nap, i was about to fall asleep before your loud ass-”

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, pulling you into a tight hug before jumping off her bed and rushing toward her door. “i’ll be back a lot more calm and happy. oh, why, you ask? because i’m about to get my back blown the fuck ou-”

you thank god for your impeccable aim, promptly whacking eunbi in the face with one of her pillows.

“get out of here,” you groan, eunbi throwing the pillow back with a smile on her face.

“sweet dreams, y/n!”

you let out a sigh when she closes her door, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop.

you were definitely tired from your anxious pacing this morning but aren’t sure how much sleep you’re gonna get right now, tonight or for the rest of the month.

knowing that you’re unwelcomed by one person, extremely attracted to another and silently betraying the person you should be most loyal too - but as long as it just stays in your head, and you remind yourself that there’s no way mr. park could feel anything back to you, it’ll be fine.

you’ll just get by quietly and smoothly at dinners or in passing through the hallways, enjoy eunbi’s comfortable king-sized bed and the fact that you don’t have to spend yet another holiday alone.

reruns of drake and josh play in the background, keeping your giggles quiet as drake soaks his feet in lizard pee. you feel your eyes grow heavy the more episodes you watch, the shitty laugh track and loud, bickering brothers eventually lulling you to sleep.

it takes about five knocks on the door to eventually stir you, your eyes fluttering open to see mr park’s figure in the doorway. you can only stare at the man as you adjust to him, taking in his tall, slim figure just a few feet away from you.

taking in the way his white shirt clings to his body, broad shoulders and slim torso on display in a way that makes you wish you could see, just for a second, what he looks like underneath that a-

“sorry if i woke you,” his deep voice hums, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice that causes your cheeks to warm. “i didn’t think you’d be sleeping at seven p.m.”

“no, it’s okay,” you stammer out, sitting up in eunbi’s bed. “i... i don’t even know when i fell asleep, to be honest.”

he looks at the screen to see drake and josh playing, a smirk pulling at his lips as his gaze shifts back to you.

“it’s funny,” you defend with a mumble, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach - he’s far too handsome, everything about him is just far too attractive, even in his laugh.

“that’s what eunbi claims,” he says, remembering all the years of his daughter forcing him to watch ridiculous shows.

despite his daughter’s outgoing nature, she never had a lot of friends growing up.

there was once a small group of girls she hung out but they quickly drifted apart throughout high school, leaving eunbi really only with him and her boyfriend.

the boyfriend who seonghwa really didn’t wanna like out of principal but seeing that the kid really does love his daughter quickly coming around.

“speaking of, where is she? jiwoon’s?”

“yeah,” you tell him, settling back into the pillows and stretching your arms out in front of you. “she said she’d be back for dinner.”

“well she’s wrong, as usual, because dinner’s ready,” he quips playfully, the smirk pulling at his lips causing you to smile back at him. you swallow nervously when his eyes roam over your face, your own gaze trained on him before you see his mouth start to move again.

“do you want me to bring some up for you? or you’ll come down?”

he can see the apprehension on your face immediately, fear crossing your eyes and your arms folding into each other uncomfortably. he tries to ignores the way your soft white sweater dips by your chest, a hint of perky cleavage just barely showing that causes his dick to twitch in his pants.

he doesn’t know when this happened.

he didn’t know when he became a pervy old man who checked out college girls with his wife just downstairs and the knowledge that you’re his daughter’s friend.

“i’ll come down,” you say, surprising him just as he was about to insist he brings some up for you. “she’ll probably be back soon anyway.”

but five minutes pass by, then ten, then twenty and eunbi’s still not home - it’s just you, seonghwa and mrs. park at the long, glass dining room table.

white chairs with high backs and comfortable cushions to match the immaculate, hospital-like color scheme and environment; truthfully, you’ve never been more terrified to eat a plate of chicken parmesan in your life.

the sound of utensils scraping on the china and the crackling of the fireplace a room over are the only noises heard throughout the home, mrs. park taking a swig of wine and gently placing it on the table with a light clack.

“so, y/n,” she finally says, breaking the tension with her rich-sounding, nasally voice. “how has school been, dear? you’re an... art major, am i remembering that correctly?”

“uh, photography, yeah,” you smile tensely, trying to ignore the judgment in her voice.

“ah, so you never switched over to business then,” she hums, her wine glass back in hand as her dark, gorgeous eyes look you over.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you feel a pink flush cover your face, faintly remembering your roommate saving you a few semesters ago when her mom was grilling you about picking a more practical and useful major.

“she can do whatever she wants, mom,” eunbi eventually snapped, “whether she does business or photography or even liberal arts is none of your business.”

“no,” you mutter out, dropping your gaze to look over the intricate pattern on the table. “i thought about it but it wasn’t something i wanted.”

“so you didn’t want something practical? or useful?” she asks, using those two words yet again while cocking her head to the side with a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“a business degree would’ve been great, y/n. everyone always has connections to somewhere, you could’ve found a job right out of college.”

you bite back the urge to tell her no. that not everyone has connections to multi billion dollar companies or numbers of ceos in their phones or the ceo of a tech company as their next door neighbors.

but instead, the same way eunbi defended you against her mother, seonghwa does against his wife. gives you a soft, sympathetic side eye before placing his larger hand on his wife’s.

“there are tons of jobs in photography too, honey,” seonghwa says, his voice so warm and soft and welcoming compared to hers even despite the slight edge in it.

“and she can travel to build her portfolio. it’s a fantastic opportunity to explore the world and make money. is there a particular type of photography you’d wanna do?”

you feel yourself relax slightly, a small smile on your face as you nod your head toward the striking couple.

“i would love to be a wedding photographer actually,” you mumble, a romantic at heart who’s read and watched far too many novels and romcoms.

“taking pictures of all those moments would be really fun, i think. like when the groom sees the bride for the first time or just everyone dancing and having fun. weddings are usually happy and i like to photography happy things.”

“that sounds perfect for you then,” seonghwa smiles, his brown eyes lighting up and making you feel even more at ease.

“i think you’ll do great, y/n. and you only have a semester left, right? maybe you and eunbi you could travel for the summer before you start your jobs.”

you ignore the swish of dread and anxiety in your stomach at the mention of next semester, instead choosing to smile softly and nod your head at the man.

“i think she’d love that,” you giggle out, knowing damn well your roommate already has an extensive list of cities she wants to visit before ‘real life begins.’

“and how do your parents feel about everything?” mrs. park asks, making your stomach twist with even more dread and discomfort. “are they proud?”

you wish you could fold in on yourself right now, swallowing the growing, nervous lump in your throat.

because not only is she making you incredibly uncomfortable right now, with her harsh looks and topic of conversation and snide little tone, she just mentioned the people you haven’t spoken to since you left home at eighteen.

you don’t know what to say, you have the slightest bit of concern you might throw up on her, when the loud, chipper voice of your roommate floats through the cold, silent house.

“i’m back!” her chipper voice yelps, sock-clad feet running through the house and sliding on the marble floor. “what’d you guys make?”

“you’re late, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles warningly, an innocent smile on her face as she picks up her plate of food and plops down next to you.

“am i? or are you girls just early?”

“i’m not a girl.”

“it’s a figure of speech, father,” eunbi says, smiling playfully at her father before turning to you.

she’s able to tell the second she sees your face that you’re uncomfortable, the pink flush still lingering on your face and the tenseness of your shoulders making her frown.

“i’m sorry you were alone with them,” she whispers, genuine sorrow in her wide, mock-innocent eyes. “i got held up. or... down, rather, but i tried to leave on time. i promise.”

“uh huh, i bet,” you mumble back, fighting back a smile despite your discomfort.

because eunbi has always had something about her that made it impossible to stay mad at her, her carefree, unfiltered way of communicating that made being her friend so easy.

even if, sometimes, you wanted to kill her.

“so mom,” eunbi quips, turning her soft gaze to you before looking over her mother.

“what was with your little group of bitchy housewives today? you couldn’t have had them over any other day? what kind of christmas disgrace is that?”

“eunbi...” seonghwa chastises lowly, the girl with her brow already quirked and eyes narrowed.

“i can do whatever i want in my home, eunbi. are you forgetting how things work around here?”

“how could i, when i’m met with thirty middle-aged women with botox out the ass in my home the second i get back from school?” she asks, “you didn’t think me and y/n would wanna spend the break, like, resting?”

“you ran off to your boyfriend’s the second you got here,” mrs. park bites back, her glass of wine empty as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “left your friend all alone in your room. what did i tell you about leaving... guests unattended in the house?”

the accusation and direction of conversation is quickly making you feel uncomfortable, your head turned down in your lap and leaving your cheeks aflame.

she’s making it sound like you would steal something in her home for christ’s sake, like you’re not a guest who’s dreaded coming here due to this very reason.

you block out the back and forth between eunbi and her mom, a few more seconds of yappy feminine voices before a deeply spoken “enough,” echoes through the dining room.

you even look up at the sound, watching as mr. park’s eyes rest on you. his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your red cheeks, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter to his wife beside him.

“y/n’s here for a month and we’re gonna make her feel welcomed the entire time. if you two are gonna fight, don’t do it at the dinner table.”

“but dad, she totally-”

“maybe you should’ve taught your daughter-”

“no more,” seonghwa growls, a sense of finality in his tone that causes the room to go silent.

you can tell your friend is unbothered by the reprimanding, shoveling food into her mouth and sipping from her wine glass completely unbothered.

sometimes you wish you could be more like her, so unfazed by conflict or loud voices or the strained relationship with a parent.

eunbi was always open with you about the rocky relationship with her mother, saying more than once to you that if it weren’t for her father, she would’ve long cut off any contact with her.

she had never really been there for eunbi growing up, having nannies and chefs take care of her for most of her life - it was her nanny of fifteen years who taught her how to walk and talk, was there with her for all the milestones she met through infancy, childhood and even adolescence.

but even then, eunbi was nonchalant and carefree about it.

saying that she’s not gonna waste her time being upset over it when she knows her mom doesn’t think about her at all. it makes your heart hurt for eunbi, grateful that the girl at least has a good relationship with her father and boyfriend.

and you, of course. you consider her your best friend and you know she does the same - even if sometimes, you wanna pull her hair out.

“i’m gonna go the food store tomorrow, eunbi, so if you and y/n want anything, just text it to me.”

“oooh can we come!” she squeals, knocking her arm into yours like an excited kid in a candy store. “we wanna try making our cookies again.”

“you’re gonna bake?” the girl’s father asks, a look of doubt on his face that causes you to bite back a smile.

“no, we’re gonna bake,” she corrects with snark, “y/n measures the ingredients and stirs, i put it in the oven and watch.”

“right, silly me,” the man hums, a smirk pulling at his lips the more he sees his daughter get irritated. “but of course you girls can come,” he says, his eyes flicking to you for just a few seconds too long.

you can only look back with a small smile, a quiet “thank you,” leaving your mouth that you’re positive he doesn’t catch.

(he did).

you help clean your plate off before you and eunbi go up to her room later that night, once her door’s closed and she’s sitting down shooting her a look of disdain.

“i know you’re mad, okay, i’m sorry, i really am!” she whines, holding her arms out for you to come over. “i tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. he just kept wanting to-”

“i don’t need the details you sick freak!” you yelp, going over and plopping down on her bed. “ugh, it was just... so awkward. your mom hates me. she was utterly perturbed that i didn’t switch my major to business.”

“ugh, she’s a crotchety bitch i swear,” eunbi says, falling onto her back and looking at you with sorrow in her eyes. “i’m sorry, i really am. i won’t leave you alone with her again, i promise.”

you quirk an unconvinced eyebrow her way, eyes full of doubt and distrust before she throws herself on you and squeals that, at least, now you can have a scary movie marathon without any interruptions.

it seems you also probably should’ve made her promise last night that you’d never be alone with her father either; it didn’t even occur to you at the time, not thinking that she’d really ditch you two days in a row.

but alas, jiwoon’s car pulled up when all three of you were walking out of the house to the g-wagon for the trip to the food store, her shooting you an apologetic look and whispered condolences in your ear.

“i’m technically not breaking my promise because my dad’s nice,” she mumbled, the feeling in your body more nervous and aroused than it is angry and upset.

but she could’t know that.

“and when i break your head? then what, eunbi?”

“i love you,” she giggles in your ear, the playful tone of your voice letting her know she got off the hook again. “it’ll be fine. my dad’s a good man. he wouldn’t ever talk shit to you the way my mom does.”

little does she know how much you want her dad to talk shit to you.

talk to you in a way that’s casual and playful and teasing, like the hints of it you’ve seen in the car or in eunbi’s room when you were alone last night. you just want him to look at you with the slightest bit of something, even though it’s wrong.

not only because of his wife, no matter how big a bitch she is, but because of-

“do you still wanna come with me?”

seonghwa’s voice pulls you away from your thoughts, looking to the man dressed in a long, black jacket and expensive loafers. he looks far too fancy and delectable for a trip to the grocery store.

eunbi is long gone by now, her giggles and carefree run down the driveway and into her boyfriend’s car leaving you and mr. park alone, with only the blue sky and crisp air as your witness.

him looking you over hopefully, with a twinge of teasing and longing in his gaze.

you looking at him full of nerves and excitement, biting down on your lip as you nod your head timidly.

“s-sure, if that’s okay,” you say, looking from him to his car just a few feet away. “it’d be better than sitting in eunbi’s room again.”

a handsome smile crosses his face as he nods his head, heart pounding and throat constricting as you watch him walk toward the car.

he walks around the front of a smaller, sleek suv, your own eyes watching in confusion until he opens the passenger side door.

you can only stare blankly, head cocked to the side as you really start to wonder if this man is about to make you drive his car costing more than your life.

“are you getting in, y/n?” he asks, an amused smile pulling at his lips - almost like he’s making fun of your nervous, intimidated disposition.

you shake your head of the confusion, cheeks flushing in the cold december air as you do an awkward jog toward the car. you dip in beside him as your body hits the cool leather, craning your neck to shoot him a small, grateful smile.

your faces are closer than you anticipated, breath catching in your throat as his gaze watches you closely.

he doesn’t say a word or move a muscle, taking a few moments for his eyes to roam your face and body before mumbling to buckle up.

you wish you knew how long the drive to the store would be, as it would slightly settle you and the thick, awkward tension in the air. it appears to be enough time for the heat to go on, warm air blowing from the vents before he asks if you want your seat heater on.

“oh, sure, thank you,” you mumble, a smile quirking on his lips as he presses down on the small circular button.

more silence lingers in the air as the trees outside you pass by, the bright winter sun and blue sky not making it feel like christmas is only a few days away.

you can’t remember the last time the holidays have actually felt like it, though, all the lonely days blending into one and feeling as if they were the same.

maybe this year, because you’re surrounded by eunbi and her family, it’ll feel less lonely. maybe you’ll actually enjoy yourself and find that you’ve missed out when you denied her invitation each and every-

“i’m sorry about my wife last night.”

those are words you don’t expect so they shock you even more, looking at the older man beside you with a wide-eyed, confused gaze. his dark eyes are expressionless and casual on the road, one hand on the wheel while the other rests beside him.

“i... what do you mean?” you ask, knowing damn well you understand his apology - and given the unamused look he throws you, he knows you’re full of shit too.

“i don’t think she means to judge you so harshly,” he begins, his deep, smooth voice full of sympathy and softness. “it’s not her place to question your education or major, so i just want to apologize for her.”

“that’s not necessary, mr. park,” you insist, shaking your head as a small, breathy chuckle leaves you. “and it’s not like i haven’t heard it before.”

because no one is ever too confident in any of the arts being your main source of income or profession; even your own parents, although it really wouldn’t matter what you would have chosen, haven’t been supportive.

and you especially haven’t missed the looks of pity or distaste when you tell people on campus or at parties in the frat house, future business leaders or stem majors looking at you like just said the sky is hot pink.

“well that’s just ridiculous,” seonghwa says, ripping you from your thoughts so you can roam over his strong, handsome face. “it’s a great field to work in and something you’re passionate about. that’s what matters most.”

he can tell by the way your cheeks flush that you’re slightly embarrassed and he can’t help but find it endearing, licking over his lips as his mind begins to wander.

wonder about what other parts of you could flush so easily or what else he could say to really make the pinkness deepen.

“i guess,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you look at the passing oak trees and mansions.

“and... what you said last night about traveling to build my portfolio,” you begin, shocked by the words continuing to leave your mouth. “that’s something i’ve thought about doing. i think it’d be really fun, regardless if i did wedding photographer or not.”

“yeah?” he asks, the smile on his face causing your head to jump. “i think that’d be good, too. where would you wanna go first?”

your lips purse to the side as you think it over, a love for traveling anywhere you could but having an especially strong pull toward the tropics.

“cancun or the maldives,” you answer, the financial aspect of the trip leaving it most likely impossible for you. “it’ll probably never happen, because i’d have to sell my first born, but i’ve always wanted to go somewhere like that. somewhere tropical and fun.”

seonghwa bites his tongue about his multiple trips there, instead letting out a chuckle that causes butterflies to erupt. his eyes are too drawn to your body in the front seat, legs crossed and arms over your lap politely.

“you never know,” he hums, ripping his gaze away before you catch his gawking. “you might get there one day, after being the best wedding photographer the city has to offer.”

“oh, please,” you glggle out, cheeks flushing despite the absurdity of the comment.

you catch the smile that creeps on his face, the same handsome, carefree smile you saw in the car last time.

you try not to let it get to you, let your brain convince you that maybe he likes hanging out with you alone as much as you like it too.

“i’m serious,” he says, the earnest tone of his voice slipping into dad mode in a way he doesn’t even realize. “your parents must be proud.”

you bite down on your lip as you let out a soft, almost scornful, chuckle, a quietly mumbled “yeah,” leaving your mouth that causes his eyebrows to pull together.

he always thought it was a little suspicious that in the four years eunbi has known you, she’s never told him about your parents; as far as he knows, she’s never even seen them.

“she has her scholarship and stuff so she doesn’t really need them,” his daughter said one day, the two of them discussing why you were spending yet another break alone in the apartment.

“but they don’t want her home for the holidays? you told her she was welcomed, right?”

“ugh, about a thousand times,” his daughter groans in the seat, throwing herself against the window dramatically. “i basically begged her, dad, but she said she didn’t wanna intrude. i’m telling you it’s because mom is the biggest fucking-”

“eunbi...”

“you know it’s true!” she squeals, seonghwa biting his tongue in an effort to be the bigger and better parent. “i don’t even know why you guys got married.”

but that’s what happens with teen pregnancies and rich families. how they were destined to marry anyway, due to their parents companies and stupid business politics.

it was one drunken night at his dad’s company party and a broken condom that sealed his fate with finality - made him go from a single, carefree high school student to a married businessman with a child just two short years later.

his wife was good at one point he likes to think, remembering she was gorgeous and sassy and not like the other girls who would drop to their knees for him.

but marriage and a child and just life quickly caught up with them, already trapped in a loveless, pointless marriage by the time he hit 25.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t stay for eunbi, that they both didn’t stay for eunbi throughout her childhood and now just grew too used to being an unhappy married couple who live separate lives.

there was never any reason for them to divorce though, no one serious in his or his wife’s lives and the hassle of money and disputing houses and cars and assets far too draining.

“i don’t believe i’ve ever met them,” seonghwa says, pulling into the store parking lot to see it’s less crowded than he suspected it’d be. “what do they do?”

you couldn’t imagine anything more unbearable than disclosing to your friend’s hot dad who you may or may not have feelings for about the messed up relationship with your parents.

it just screams daddy issues, which might say a lot about your very attraction to him in the first place.

“they run a little restaurant back in my home town. it’s about three hours from campus, which is why i don’t really go home for breaks.”

seonghwa hums lowly, nodding his head as he looks at you at a stop sign.

you’re unnerved by the way his eyes roam you, like he can see signs of you being uncomfortable about your parents and wants to know why - but why would he care? you’re only his daughter’s roommate.

“do you miss seeing them?”

you lick over your lips nervously, watching as his eyes darken every so slightly.

he watches each and every of your movements carefully, so in tune with your reactions and breaths you can just feel yourself getting more and more worked up.

not in the slightest, you wanna say. i’ll probably never see them again and have no qualms about it, mr. park.

“i suppose,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders as you apprehensively meet his gaze.

“you suppose?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “when was the time you’ve seen them? since your freshmen year?”

you avert your gaze as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, in no way wanting to have this discussion at ten a.m. when, much to your pleasure, an impatient car behind beeps at seonghwa’s mercedes.

his dark eyes move to the rearview mirror, narrowed and irritated in a way you can’t help but think is sexy, before he puts his foot off the break and turns into the parking lot.

“i think this person’s leaving,” you mutter when you notice another car go in reverse, seonghwa snatching the spot before the impatient, crotchety lady behind him could steal it.

you can’t help but smirk as seonghwa eyes her when you get out of the car, giving him a look that’s half judgmental and half amused.

“what? she beeped at me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

he rolls his eyes as he takes a cart from the pile, nodding his head for you to go in front and “stop talking back to an elder.”

you can’t help but smirk at his playfulness, taking your spot in the front and pretending as if you always move your hips this much when you walk casually; you would’ve felt embarrassed, had you not turned around a few moments later to see his eyes already on you.

“where to first, mr. park?”

he has to bite back the groan threatening to leave his mouth, reminding himself to keep himself in check this month - starting tomorrow.

“depends, y/n,” he hums, voice far too deep and sultry to be surrounded by innocent bystanders in the grocery store. “what do you want?”

words are caught in your throat and you can only stare dumbly, your plan quickly back firing as he appears to do the same - but it’s gotta be in your head, right?

regardless, it quickly humbles you in the form of a small, unsure shrug.

it’s how you two start walking up and down the aisles, seonghwa putting in what he remembers and items on his mental list while also insisting you put in anything you want.

your arms bump ever so often, softly apologizing and acknowledging it the first few times before you both realize it may be happening on purpose.

you stick close to him when the aisles get tight and crowded, his deep voice telling you to “go ahead,” causing you to swallow shakily. you feel the presence of his hand just a few inches from your hips, lingering and hovering but never fully touching.

it’s finally when you’re in the bread aisle, seonghwa a few feet away talking to the man at the bakery counter, that you decide to put something in the cart.

you would usually never accept someone’s offer to buy you something, already feeling bad about staying with them rent free and eating their meals without compensating.

but the brioche loaf brand is one of your favorites, only sold on occasion at the corner store near campus.

you press up on your tippy toes to grab the bag of bread, stretching your arm up with all your might. the plastic slips through your fingers just as you’re about to snatch it down, letting out an annoyed huff as you pulled down your sweater dress.

you mumble your annoyances before trying again, back on the tips of your toes with your arm raising when you feel a hand on the small of your back.

it’s large and warm and seeping through the thin material of your burgundy dress, a snappy protest about to leave your mouth when you catch mr. park’s face in your peripheral.

there’s a content look on his face as he takes the bag with ease, holding it above your head as his hand moves from your back to your waist with a gentle touch.

you look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, his hand on your waist so foreign and strange but... good. something you didn’t even realize you’d been craving until it happened.

the strength and warmth of his hand, though if you think about it just enough, you can feel the weight of his wedding band through the fabric.

“is this what you wanted?”

his voice is deep and low as he speaks to you and you alone, your eyes raising to see him staring down at you. you can’t make out the expression in them, just the darkness in his eyes and the frantic beating of your heart.

you can’t even being to understand the context of his words right now because, yes, this is exactly what you’ve wanted - but he doesn’t know that, right?

“w-what?”

he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face, all sorts of pride and satisfaction and arousal coursing through his veins at your current disposition.

“the bread,” he says, stepping back and holding it out to you. “is this the one you wanted?”

your eyes narrow as you look at him, the smirk on his face, the amusement in his gaze, the playfulness that’s radiating off him - is he fucking with you?

“oh... i... yes,” you finally say, coming to your senses and not allowing yourself to think this way anymore. “that’s the one. i hope it’s okay.”

“of course,” he hums, placing the bread in the cart before going back to the front handles. “you can get anything you want, i already told you that.”

you nod dumbly as you follow beside him, seonghwa picking more things off the shelves and muttering the list to himself as you try to get your shit together.

because yes, you’re attracted to him and yes, you’ve found yourself alone with him for more than two days in a row and yes, there’s been some lingering looks and touches but that doesn’t mean anything.

you can’t let your own deluded thoughts and desires get in the way of reality.

the reality that he’s your friend and roommate’s married father and you’re a college student. he doesn’t want you just as much as you shouldn’t want him so what’s the problem here?

maybe it’s that you’re a 22-year-old woman who’s only been on a handful of dates.

that the last time you made out with someone was when you were drunk and dared to kiss the first guy that walked through the bar (luckily, somewhat attractive and surprisingly polite).

that, maybe, you’re so horribly touch-starved and aching for affection, you’re trying to find it in a hot father figure who’s just as kind as he sexy - and that, you think, is the second most tragic thing here.

because the first would absolutely be thinking that any of this, any of these stares or touches or coincidences of eunbi leaving you two alone, means something.

means that maybe this break is for you two is create an attraction and build some sort of bond and-

“y/n.”

you’re barely able to register seonghwa’s voice before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your body into his taller one and having you pressed up right against him.

you were so lost in thought of him that you didn’t see the older women skirting her cart around the aisle quickly, phone pressed to her ear as she yells to her husband about the christmas ham.

you’re not even sure if she shoots you a look of sorrow or utters any apology, too consumed and distracted by the feeling and proximity of mr. park.

his arm wrapped around you, your body pressed flush up against him, his neck craned down to look at you with a building... something in his eyes. playfulness and teasing but also something darker, something that makes your stomach swoop and renders you unable to move.

“are you always so clumsy and distracted?” he mumbles lowly, his deep voice quiet for only you two to hear - like he knows even in a sea of strangers, he has to keep these interactions quiet.

“what would you do if i wasn’t here to help you, y/n?”

i wouldn’t have been distracted in the first place, you’re tempted to say - but you certainly don’t wanna open that can of worms, especially not in the middle of this grocery store with the way your heart is pounding.

“i... i’m sorry, i was distracted,” you mutter, playing up the damsel in distress just a little bit. “my mistake, mr. park.”

he licks over his lips, swearing his name just being spoken has never effected him like this. he doesn’t even know where this attraction came from, seeing you leave the dorm building yesterday morning and something in his body jumping at the sight of you.

maybe it’s just showing how unhappy he really is with his life, living day to day to just work. hang out with his friends and go to sleep alone - he doesn’t remember the last time his wife touched him, looked at him like she wanted him or made any move to be with him.

he just knows that you showed up, looking so pretty and wide-eyed and coy, and is now about to lose his mind.

“it’s alright,” he says, hoping you don’t hear the thick tension he hears in his own voice, like he’s some idiotic, hormonal young boy. “i think we only have a few more aisles left, anyway.”

he plucks the remaining items off the shelves before you both make your way to the self check-out, him scanning and you bagging because “eunbi says if my career as a photographer fails, i could be the best grocery bagger ever.”

“that’s just because she puts the bread on the bottom,” seonghwa mutters, a smile on your face as you nod your head - she squished one too many of your brioche loafs before you realized bagging just wasn’t for her.

your fingers graze ever so often, the coldness of his tips a stark contrast to your warmer ones.

a particularly big, bulk bag of vegetables proves to be a challenge for you, working through the packed bag with some difficulty. you let out an annoyed groan as you play a dangerous game of tetris, trying not to rip open the brown paper bag.

you finally get the box inside, a little bit prouder than you care to admit, when your precious brioche loaf is dropped right atop. you look up at seonghwa to see him already apologizing, your brow raised as you look at the older man in confusion.

did he think your hand was out? why would he just throw the food at you?

but it’s only when you feel a little more air than normal on your chest that you see what could’ve possibly caused the distraction, the white lace from your bra sticking out.

your cleavage in this dress was hidden for the most part, only becoming a little more obvious when you moved around or packed a shitload of groceries. it makes you bite back a smirk as you put two and two together, looking up to see his eyes still lingering over you.

two can play at this game mr. park.

“mr. park,” you begin, feigning a certain kind of innocence as you place your bread atop the other groceries and finally look up at him. “are you always so clumsy?”

it takes a few seconds for a smile to pull at his lips, the tick in his jaw not going unnoticed to you - so maybe this wasn’t all in your head. maybe he wants you too... possibly.

“you’re funny, y/n,” he mumbles, a smile pulling at your lips as he takes out his black card. “i guess i was distracted, too.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you feel the slightest hint of arousal run through you, shaking it off and letting out a forced, girlish chuckle.

you pack the car a few minutes later without any lingering eyes or touches, seonghwa telling you about the meals they plan on cooking for christmas.

they usually don’t make their own food for holidays but decided to have a more traditional set up for you and eunbi’s arrival - he also hasn’t cooked a meal for his family in god knows how long.

“that’ll be great, thank you,” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt in as he backs out the spot. “i’m kind of a picky eater but i’ll eat anything you guys provide me.”

“and you have the whole brioche loaf,” seonghwa says, a giggle leaving your mouth as you nod your head.

“true. it’s really good.”

“i’ve never tried, perhaps you’d be willing to-”

his wife’s name popping up on his car dashboard acts as a way to bring you back to reality, brings a certain kind of silence over the both of you for a few seconds.

like he wasn’t just rubbing his body against yours and you weren’t just flirting with him in the form of smirking lips and snarky comments.

you watch a twinge of annoyance behind seonghwa’s eyes, gaze roaming over the screen as if he’s in contemplation before muttering “one second.”

“hello?”

“where are you?” her voice snaps in annoyance, “i told you we had that board meeting at one.”

“and it’s only noon,” his deep voice mumbles, not matching her level of irritation but sounding a whole lot different than a few seconds ago. “me and y/n are coming back now.”

“y/n?” she spats, like it’s a disgusting piece of food she wouldn’t dare put in her mouth. “what about eunbi?”

“she went off with jiwoon before i could get her in the car.”

“so it was only you two?” she asks, the snide judgment and underlying tone in her voice causing your stomach to churn. “did she ask you to buy a bunch of-”

“i’ll be home in twenty and then be on my way over,” he says, cutting her off and hanging up before she can even get another word you.

your stomach churns and a sick feeling comes over you, her utter dislike and disdain for you causing you to bite your lip.

because not only does she not like you to be with her daughter, she doesn’t want you with her husband (although, you suppose, you can’t really blame her for that one).

“i’m sorry about that,” seonghwa winces, the silence lingering between you two heavy. “you could’ve gotten anything you wanted, y/n. this is your christmas too. don’t feel bad about anything, okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, your gaze moving to his as he stops at the red light.

your eyes lingering over his and his doing the very same, hand twitching to reach out and move the piece of hair from your slightly flushed face.

and there was something about the way you were both looking at each other, eyes so focused and unwavering and honest, that had you thinking maybe all of this wasn’t in your heads.

but it didn’t mean either of you could act on it - they were just... feelings of lust and wonder and all things forbidden, not seriously believing that a relationship like this could unfold right under the nose of his wife, his daughter and your roommate.

unless the pull was so desperate.

so overwhelming and all-consuming and present between the both of you, little moments couldn’t help but happen.

strike one:

with none other than eunbi as a distraction, the girl promising she wasn’t gonna leave you alone anymore, you were able to take your mind off everything.

the tension-filled, heart pounding moments with mr. park that felt just as wrong as they did right.

you spent a few nights going out with her, jiwoon and all of their high school friends, a surprisingly nice group of young adults who you got along well with.

they were loud and crazy and did far too many shots but they also seemed to be genuinely kind. even the boy who was flirting with you all night, handsome and tall with pretty dark eyes, acted as a good distraction.

grinding up against him as the music pounded throughout the bar, alcohol coursing through your veins allowing you to forget about the older man who’s been living in your head for almost a week now.

“how have i never met you before, y/n?” the boy mumbled lowly in your ear, your head against his shoulder carelessly.

but it was right there in that moment, him saying your name, that the moment was over.

because it just didn’t sound like seonghwa, as delusional as that was.

it didn’t get your heart racing or lips quirking the same way it did when you heard the older man say it. the smile attached to his handsome, mature face and the deep, lowly spoken tone that always held a hint of teasing and sincerity.

“but danny really is so freakin’ nice!” eunbi squeals to you on christmas eve, the two of you in her immaculately white and modern kitchen prepping the chocolate chip cookie cough for tomorrow.

“and you two seemed to be getting along, i saw your ass all up on him.”

“eunbi, that wasn’t me. that was the vodka. i don’t know who that girl was.”

she throws her head back as a loud chuckle leaves her, telling you again that she warned you her snobby, rich little friends have been able to handle their liquor since middle school.

it’s how they cope, she had said, unloved kids with more money than god learning to deal with the world of limitless funds and minimal parental supervision.

“well he hasn’t stopped asking me about you, you know,” she hums, her eyebrows quirked suggestively as she mixes the bowl of ingredients lazily.

“and not just because of your newfound grinding skills, which by the way, are usually learned by the tenth grade.”

your eyes narrow at her comment, throwing a small ball of dough at her that she, impressively, catches in her mouth.

“he really is just, like, so taken by you, y/n. seriously. i told him that you’re graduating this year with a degree in photography and he nearly came in his pants. he loves the artsy girls.”

“you are so vile,” you snort out, shaking your head at the girl sitting criss-crossed on the counter. “and stop saying that. we both know i’m not graduating this year,” you mumble, her face falling pathetically.

“i told you we’re gonna find a way,” she whines lowly, looking at you with all kinds of sympathy and sadness in her eyes - she would offer to pay for you, if she didn’t think you would smack her upside the head.

“oh and what? is my new boyfriend danny gonna do that for me?”

“in exchange for more grinding and a photoshoot, i think. do you want me to try?”

she lets out another giggle despite the way you pinch her leg, peeking inside the bowl with a surprising amount of pride.

"this looks good,” you mumble, swiping your finger to collect some of the chocolate dough.

“hey!” she whines brattily, thrusting a spoon toward your hand just a second too late.

“why are you whining in here like a child, eunbi?” seonghwa asks, walking through the entryway and the large, white island in the center. “what are you making? please don’t burn the house down.”

“haha dad, you’re so funny,” she mocks sarcastically, jumping down from the counter with her hands on her hips. “where are the baking sheets?”

a simple shrug from her father causes her to roll her eyes, grumbling about how she was really trying to avoid her bitch of a mother today. he holds back his smirk, about to reprimand her before she’s out the kitchen and shouting for her mother upstairs.

it’s only you and seonghwa in the kitchen now, a heavy silence in the air as you stand there dumbly - bowl beside you, cookie dough adorning the top of your finger.

“what are you girls making?” he finally asks, his body moving closer and closer causing you to swallow.

“i... uh, cookie dough. for tomorrow,” you say, lifting your finger and wiggling the tip full of batter. “chocolate chip.”

his eyes move to your finger before grazing over your mouth, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly as he reminds himself to act right.

he hasn’t been alone with you since that day at the food store, just seeing you in passing in the hallways or outside the house as you and eunbi went to and fro.

he hears your giggles at night and tired groans in the morning, quietly yelling at his daughter to wake up and get her ass out of bed.

and he knows it’s probably for the better, that you two don’t find yourselves alone with each other, but he can’t help but feel a rush of excitement right now.

you watch as he moves closer, with the same wide-eyed look you’ve been giving him since he first saw you in your apartment weeks ago.

“ahh, you’re making it from scratch? that’s ambitious.”

“yeah, we googled a recipe,” you tell him, finger still beside you in the air.

you don’t know what causes you to be so bold, maybe him attempting to carry out a normal conversation even though he’s looking at you with so much lust and desire, but you can’t stop once you start.

“how’s it taste?” he asks, his voice deep and slightly strained as he nods his head toward your finger.

you don’t even bat an eye as you slip the tip of your finger in your mouth slowly, swirling your tongue around as you take up all the dough on your skin.

it’s sweeter than you originally thought it’d be but it tastes good nonetheless, keeping your eyes on him as you reamin as innocent and unassuming as possible.

“it’s good,” you say, dropping your finger like you didn’t just make a show of licking and sucking it. “i like it better raw.”

you don’t even realize your words until you see the fleeting look on his face, tongue swiping across his lip and eyes hardening. they roam you so slowly and darkly, you can’t control the growing butterflies and swooping in your lower stomach.

“mm, me too,” he hums lowly, the hardening of his cock in his pants something he hasn’t felt in forever. it’s taking everything in him to control himself, from his eyes popping out of his head to letting out the deepest of growls in the back of his throat.

“do you want some?” you ask, cocking your head to the side questioningly.

he has to desperately hold on to his composure, not think about how easy it’d be to pin you against the cabinet right behind you. take just a few steps closer, have your back against the cold granite and let you feel just how much he wants some.

but he has to play it cool, push down these building desires and ignore your teasing because he’s almost fucking positive that’s what’s happening here.

“want some what?” he asks, his voice lowering just a tad.

he hasn’t played a game like this since college, watching as your eyes widen and brow quirks up.

but he sees that’s exactly what it is when you turn around and face the bowl of cookie dough to him, a smile just as sweet as the cookies on your face.

“cookie dough. before we put them in the oven and possibly burn them.”

the breathy chuckle he lets out leaves your stomach in shambles, his tongue peeking out and poking the inside of his cheek causing a swooping sensation to flood through you.

but before he can even think to say anything, before your eyes can look over his body and make you feel even more warm and bothered, eunbi floats back in and fiddles in the cabinets for the baking sheets.

“that woman is too much, i swear,” she grunts, whipping out the materials quickly before her head snaps to her father. “why are you still here?”

“i wanted some cookies. and to ensure y/n won’t allow you do burn down the kitchen.”

“it was one time, dad, and an accident. how many times do i have to defend myself in this house?”

you let out a giggle as you look from eunbi to seonghwa, your roommate turning her back to set up the practice baking session.

“let’s go bitch! i hope we didn’t fuck this up.”

seonghwa’s eyes roam over you for a few more moments, his tongue swiping across his lips before, finally, leaving the kitchen with his dick hard as a rock.

strike two:

christmas consisted of successful cookies per your and eunbi’s homemade batch, passive aggressive comments from mrs. park about your degree and a whole fuck ton of sexual energy between you and seonghwa.

you could almost always feel when his gaze was boring into you, when you got up to take more mashed potatoes or kept your attention on eunbi as she told her parents about what job she wants to start at next semester.

it’s also when eunbi almost let it slip about your scholarships, had you not viciously pinched her arm and caused a pained cry to leave her mouth - if you ever thought jiwoon was gonna verbally assault you, it was certainly in that moment.

“why did you pinch me so hard?” she whined later that night, jiwoon passed out on the couch after five too many homemade cookies. “look at my bruise.”

a genuine frown crosses your lips as you look at her arm, rubbing her skin gently as you mumble your soft spoken apologies.

“i’m sorry but i just... i didn’t want your mom to know that,” you say back just as whiney and pathetic. “she already thinks i’m an incompetent idiot. knowing i have to wait a whole year because i’m broke is just too embarrassing.”

it’s an admission that, while eunbi already suspected that, still makes her feel bad - it nearly makes her wanna cry, that you don’t feel welcomed and loved in her home because her mom has to be a judgmental bitch.

“y/n...”

“bi, it’s fine, oh, my god do not cry right now,” you grumble, flicking her in the head lightly.

“i just feel bad,” she cries lowly, moving hrself closer to you and away from her boyfried. “it’s not fair, y/n. you worked so hard and now you have to wait. how could they do this to you?”

a small, touched smile crosses your face at eunbi as you shake your head, dabbing at her watery eyes.

if jiwoon wakes up, he’s literally gonna beat my ass,” you say, smiling when a wet giggle leaves eunbi; you don’t want this time to be sad or upsetting. “i thought he was gonna hit me at dinner.”

“okay if he’s hitting anything, it’s gonna be my-”

“no. no, no, no.”

the snort that leaves her mouth doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach, looking at you with a frown still adorning her face.

“i’m sorry if my mom’s making you feel uncomfortable. she does it to every single person ever and i don’t-”

“it’s fine, please stop apologizing for her,” you say, the sinking reminder in the back of your mind that seonghwa had been doing the very same thing - apologizing for that woman.

“i know she’s stressing you out, too. we’re in it together.”

“that’s true,” she sighs, letting out a long, dramatic groan before resting her head on your shoulder. “i’m so bloated, i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to eat again.”

and it was funny that, days after the holiday, eunbi was still convinced that she was bloated from christmas dinner.

“babe, i don’t even think that’s possible,” jiwoon consoled her, you and him sitting in her room as she gets ready to go down to the pool.

because, naturally, like everyone in this godforsaken rich town, they get ready to go to the pool that’s inside of their homes; when eunbi told you to pack a bathing suit back at your apartment, you looked at her like she was insane.

until she clarified that her pool is heated and, conveniently, indoors.

“just through the backyard,” she had said - and she truly meant it.

just a few yards away from the main deck area, with floor to ceiling glass windows that showcase the extravagant landscaping and, of course, the outdoor pool and jacuzzi just a few feet away.

“eunbi, this is insane,” you say, marveling at the sight before you.

“don’t you wish you came sooner?” she asks with a wink, your eyes rolling as you place down your towel.

you had the option to bring two bathing suits - a skimpy black one you don’t remember being so scandalous or a red one you remember eunbi insisting you buy last summer.

and you just knew it was because danny was coming, currently showcasing his impressive eight pack that, truly, just doesn’t do it for you - maybe if he was twenty years older, apparently, and somebody’s father and husband.

you shake the thoughts out of your head, walking a few steps toward the pool before eunbi tackles you from behind. you both land with a loud splash, followed by the excited shouts and loud splashes of her other friends.

you’d be lying if you said you could remember the last time you had this much fun, splashing and giggling and acting so carefree despite the many challenges you’ll have to face soon.

but that’s not any of your concern right now, currently sitting atop danny’s shoulders and trying to knock down eunbi in a game of chicken.

“you little bitch! get your nails out of me!”

“coming from the girl who literally just tried to choke me two seconds ago!”

“like it’s your first time being choked!”

and you don’t know whether jiwoon was shocked by you saying that statement or the fact that his girlfriend exposes all of her sexual kinks to you but alas, it did the trick in sealing you a victory.

a smug smile on your face as danny jumps up and down in excitement, your body bouncing and nearly falling over him had you not gripped onto his shoulders.

it’s at that time eunbi pops up from the water, hair a soaking mess and mascara running down her face. she’s about to open her mouth, probably to yell at you, before a volleyball is thrown through the air and just misses her face.

instead, it hits danny square in the head. the boy letting out a yelp before you promptly fall backwards in the water, hearing eunbi’s shrill squeal and giggle on your way down.

you pop up and throw her a dirty look, danny rubbing at the back of his side before apologizing profusely.

“it’s okay,” you giggle out, about to say you shouldn’t have been up there for so long before eunbi’s squealing in the air.

“dad, what the hell kind of aim was that!”

you feel your body stiffen before you quickly shoot around, none another than mr. park standing there looking as handsome as ever.

he puts the young men around you to shame, good-looking, muscular college boys who anyone in their right mind would find attractive - but they just don’t beat him.

his striking eyes or tall, lean stature or the fact that he’s just so fucking-

“got worse with age, bi, what can i say?” he chuckles, extra white fluffy towels in his hold that he places on the chair. “sorry, danny.”

seonghwa’s known danny for a few years now, one of jiwoon’s friends who seems... alright. not a bad guy but also not a good guy - just kind of there; but it didn’t occur to the man just how much he was bothered by him until he saw you on his shoulders.

because he could’ve put you in danger, of course. put you in danger at his house where if things got bad, he’d be responsible; as for the ball, it merely slipped from his finger tips.

“no problem mr. park,” the kid smiles, the other friends gathering around and looking at him expectantly. “we’re gonna play a round of volleyball. you in?”

“no. no dads allowed,” eunbi whines, seonghwa rolling his eyes at his bratty adult daughter.

“why not? because i’m better than all of you, eunbi?”

“oh please,” she grumbles lowly, rolling her eyes and grabbing you to lead you toward the stairs. “you know what, we’re going in the hot tub anyway. since she decided to rock my shit in chicken. enjoy my father traitors,” eunbi grumbles to jiwoon and his friends.

“i did not,” you protest weakly, feeling two pairs of eyes on you as you make your way out of the pool with your friend.

the first thing that strikes seonghwa, apart from the major twitch in his pants, is how skimpy your bikini is.

red bottoms with thin straps holding it up, a matching red top showcasing cleavage and beauty marks on your chest and all the things that are proving to drive him fucking crazy upon seeing you every day.

it’s taking everything in him to control the growing ache in his shorts, your eyes looking at him so coyly and attentively that you’re ignoring the college boy gawking at you right in front of him.

there’s a certain sort of twisted pride in his chest, you giving him attention and seemingly reciprocating his interest, when there’s someone younger right there for you.

younger and unmarried and more suitable for you. someone you can actually be with where it wouldn’t be considered dirty or wrong or secretive; but maybe that’s why you’re both drawn to it in the first place.

that, and because you’re both really hot.

“he’s literally hot, y/n! why don’t you like him?” eunbi whines to you, the two of you sitting across from one another in the hot tub outside.

the december air is crisp but feels nice comapred to the steaming water you’re gratefully submerged in. anything to take you away from mr. park shirtless and wet in the pool right now.

“i do like him, bi,” you mutter, trying your best to convince her and now seem suspicious.

“okay, yeah, as a person but who cares about that!” she whines, flopping her hands dramatically in the water. “you don’t want him to rail you.”

“eunbi!” you squeak, splashing in her direction as a warm, embarrassed blush rises to your cheeks.

“i’m serious y/n. you’ve never been railed before and danny’s such a good option. he’s hot and he’s sweet and he’s so pathetically into you, it’s a little sick.”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, shooting her a look that screams can we please not talk about this because you don’t know how much i actually wanna be railed by your father so let’s stop this discussion.

but she only rolls her eyes, moving herself closer to you so she can tug at your arm annoyingly.

“is he just not your type?” she questions, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion for a few moments before utter shock crosses her face.

“wait, what is your type? it’s... men, right? have i been hooking you up with the wrong gender this whole time?” she asks in disbelief, “could we have been hooking up this whole time?”

you press your lips together so you don’t burst out laughing, dryly replying “yes, eunbi, i’m into men.”

but the more you think about it, the more you think maybe you don’t have a type.

“and i’ve... never really thought about it before, to be honest. i just know i’m not into like... frat guys or whatever.”

because any party you’d been to, any douchey college guy wearing a backwards hat or cut off shirt, you had never been more disinterested. you couldn’t ever picture yourself falling for someone like that, romantically or sexually.

the one time you remember thinking someone was hot was when you took film and lit with your 31-year-old professor.

“so older guys?” eunbi concludes after hearing that, a smirk on her face as she raises her eyebrows playfully. “we gotta scope out some golf courses or retirement homes?”

“please,” you scoff, a giggle leaving her mouth as she throws her head back gleefully.

“okay, really though, i’ll tell danny you’re not interested and to stop trying so hard if you’re really not interested.”

but maybe danny as a distraction will be good.

will make you see that, perhaps, someone single and your own age and not your best friend’s father will be good thing for you to explore.

so you shrug lightheartedly, the smirk on your face causing eunbi to let out a low “oooh shit.”

you look over at her and your smile only widens when she knocks your shoulder, saying that you’re looking to be a play girl and drain a rich, lovesick man of some christmas presents.

“yeah, right! why drain a rich man when i can drain my best friend,” you tease, looking around her yard and still in astonishment that this is really her life. “i mean, two pools? is that really necessary?”

“three actually. there’s one behind the guest house on the other side. a small one. very humble.”

“oh, a small one, okay. great.”

she lets out another giggle, the two of you talking over plans for new years eve.

you might go up to jiwoon’s parents house in the mountains for the weekend, spend the time drinking with the small group of friends you’ve come to genuinely like over these past few weeks.

“it’s only two hours away so it won’t be that bad either,” she says, getting up to shake the hot water off her arms. “i’ll be right back, i have to pee.”

you nod your head, grateful she didn’t piss in the pool and allowing yourself to sit there, eyes closed, body relaxed, in the silence.

you can hear the faint screams of the boys from the indoor pool area and the swish of the hot tub filter, peeking open your eyes when, suddenly, you think you hear a boom of thunder in the distance.

you watch the sky darkening and clouds coming in, signaling a storm is coming in soon and quick. a sigh leaves your mouth, enjoying your last few moments of peace before finally standing in the hot tub.

the crisp winter air blows and sends goosebumps up your arms, a shiver running through your body as you attempt to splash some hot water on your upper body.

you don’t know how you know someone’s watching you but you do, some sort of strange intuition within you looking up to see none other than mr. park standing a few feet away from the hot tub.

his dark hair is wet and hanging in his face, swimming trunks soaked and his exposed chest still dripping chlorine water.

you press your lips together as your eyes roam his chest, a hint of abs on his lean stomach that causes a small, strangled groan to leave your mouth - you will never understand how this man is pushing 40.

but the same way you’re looking at him, he’s looking at you.

water covering your body, currently hunched over trying to warm the rest of your body; but it’s when you stand he really starts to gawk, your figure standing full and tall and giving him a perfect view of your hardening nipples from the cold crisp air.

you can see the lust in his eyes the same way you know he can and you’re about to do something to just make him crack. mistakingly untie your bottoms, catching them at the last second so he thinks he’s about to get a peak.

or undo the back of your top and pout at him, ask him to please tie it back for you because it’s way too hard to reach behind and do it yourself.

or maybe you’ll just drop to your knees right there, try to see if there’s any hint of a bulge in his swimming trunk bottoms and-

his body is gone just as fast as he arrived, confusion covering your face before you shake your head of your perverted thoughts - dropping to your knees when his daughter and wife are right here, what the fuck is wrong with you today?

you blame eunbi, all her talk about getting railed when you’ve been wanting to jump her father’s bones.

you carefully make your way out of the hot tub, not wanting to eat shit and scarp your leg on the concrete.

it feels like you’re about to freeze in the cold, another shiver wracking your body before you turn to stick your cold, goosebump-ridden arms back in the hot tub. it warms you for just a few seconds, a low, satisfied hum leaving your mouth before you hear footsteps coming up from behind you.

something in you tells you it’s him again.

whether it be the way your body heats up and feels prickly, the obvious feeling of eyes burning into your exposed back causing you to remain still and oblivious.

but you can longer remain oblivious a few seconds later, when a tall body is just a few inches away from completely pressing against you.

“you forgot a towel,” is all he says, placing it on the wet rim of the hot tub.

when he leans forward to place the white towel down, he’s careful and meticulous with his movements. brushing up against you every so slightly and carefully that you can feel his hard bulge on your ass for a few seconds too long.

at first you think you’re crazy, feeling what you were trying to envision in your head, but then you absolutely know it there’s.

you can feel the wetness from his bathing suit on your legs, his cock right there resting on the thin, red fabric of your bikini bottoms and if you were as weak as you felt inside, if he stayed there just a little bit longer, a moan would’ve absolutely left your mouth.

if you pushed back just a little to feel more of his cock on you, grind your ass his hardness just enough to hear him let out a low groan or maybe curse a little.

but he moves away, almost like he knew the perfect amount of time before that happened and almost like he did it by accident - but when you turn around and see the look in his eyes, you know it wasn’t.

the same way he can see a palpable desire and surprise and tension in your gaze, causing him to suppress a growing smirk. it makes you wanna tease him back in whatever way you can but you know that eunbi’s due back from the bathroom at any moment.

so you only cock your head to the side, lick over your lower lip carefully as you grasp the towel in your hands gently.

“thank you, mr. park,” you say, your voice as airy and sweet as you can possibly make it without sounding like an idiot.

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he says, taking a few steps back as his eyes lock on you. he stays there for a few moments until he hears the door to the pool house open.

you watch his lustful, dark expression change right then and there, a towel wrapping around his lower body and his face stretching into a happy, father-approved look.

“so you’re good with anything for dinner, y/n?” he asks, his voice loud and clear enough for his approaching daughter to hear. “i know you mentioned you were picky.”

“let’s get pizza!” eunbi screeches through the air, telling seonghwa that everyone’s staying over and they’ll need at least four boxes.

but you can’t even think about pizza right now, not when this moment right here is solidifying the crazy thought in your head that your best friend’s dad wants you just as much as you want him.

you called him out later that night around one a.m., after eunbi and jiwoon were the last to pass out to your scary movie marathon.

the others were sprawled out on the basement floor, an intricate array of blankets and pillows on the floor that you attempted to weave through, both, skillfully and quietly.

there was a dryness in your throat that could only be settled by a cold glass of water, making your way through the house quietly and praying you don’t run into mrs. park.

she’s been just as passive aggressive as she usually is in front of people so you could never imagine being alone with her. wondering what the hell she’d say to you without seonghwa and eunbi as buffers.

you were relieved when the lights were off in the kitchen, padding your way to the fridge to take out a bottle of water. you twist and turn the cap off to gulp down the cold liquid in the refrigerator light, a quiet gasp leaving you as your thirst is quenched.

you briefly consider going up to eunbi’s room to sleep tonight, not sure how you feel about being squished in with eunbi and jiwoon cuddling on the couch, when the light suddenly flicks off.

it causes you to freeze and halt all thoughts, fear running through you for all three seconds before you see seonghwa’s tall, familiar figure pass you. you watch him carefully in the dim light of the fridge, his shirtless chest yet again right in front of your face.

leaned back against the counter across from you, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest and gray sweatpants.

“midnight snack?” he asks, the smirk on his face almost causing you to roll your eyes.

instead, your lips quirk into a small smile. raising your water bottle by your head and shaking it, the water swishing in your pounding ears.

“just water,” you respond quietly, matching his low tone. “i hope that’s okay.”

“that you took water? of course, y/n,” he says, amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

you’re freshly showered and in a pair of pajamas, matching pink sets that eunbi got you for christmas one year - he remembers because he was with her when she bought it.

a soft smile crosses your face, your back getting cold from the open fridge but not daring to move a muscle. not with him looking at you the way he is and with his body just a few feet away from you.

a silence lingers in the kitchen, you not sure why he’s looking at you and him waiting to see if you say something, before he bites the inside of his cheek.

“i wanted to say sorry about before.”

your eyebrow quirks up, interest so clearly peaked as you cock your head to the side.

“what do you mean?”

a smirk crosses his face as he watches you play dumb, head cocked and eyes wide and everything about you with such mock innocence, he thinks that’s what’s driving him the most crazy.

that you do this shit and say certain things with almost complete unawareness and innocence, if it weren’t for the hidden look of desire and teasing in your eyes.

“you know,” is all he says, his voice dipping and eyes twinging darker, it makes your lower stomach swoop.

a part of is positive, even if you ask, he’s not gonna say it aloud.

he’s not gonna say or acknowledge any of this aloud and make you guys play this game until you leave in a few weeks.

and then when you leave, unsure about your next prospects of college or education or even living arrangements, who knows if you’re ever gonna see him again.

so you only hum lowly, closing the fridge behind you and leaving you both in darkness. the only source of light is from the moon outside, lighting up half the kitchen from the large bay window.

it leaves you both incredibly exposed, anyone from the outside able to see the two seemingly innocent bodies standing toe to toe with each other; but they don’t see the lustful looks and eyes full of desire, both of you so entrapped by the other, it’s obvious with the tension in the air.

“oh, well, then... it’s okay, mr. park,” you say with a smile, taking a step back as your eyes roam his chest one last time. “i didn’t mind.”

you’re about to say goodnight when you see his arm reach out, shocked but oh, so ready ready to give into your desire and feel your body crash against his or your lips connect finally.

moan into his mouth and feel more of his hardness against you - but he only takes the water from your hand, presses his mouth against the plastic rim and swigs down a big gulp.

you watch with wide eyes as his adam’s apple bobs in the moonlight, head tipped back and body perched calmly on the counter as he takes a swig of your water bottle, spit exchanged and his mouth right where yours was.

he pulls back with an unreadable expression, licking the excess water from his lips before simply closing the cap, holding out the bottle and smiling at you with the most wise-ass smirk you’ve ever seen, you’re not sure how you’re ever gonna one up this man.

"sweet dreams, y/n.”

strike 3:

your new years weekend get away turned into an extended stay that consisted of sleeping on a lumpy air mattress, five extra guests and so much alcohol, you’re positive you’re still hungover three days later.

“it wasn’t that... we only did a... i mean it wasn’t like we were....” eunbi says, the two of you laying on her bed nursing headaches and body aches to the severest degree.

“okay, it was pretty bad. we were kind of rowdy and out of control.”

“you don’t say?” you grumble, never one to black out and get that shit faced and then doing it nearly every night - maybe to deal with danny’s pathetic soft looks or whispered sweet nothings to you.

“nothing is working either. not advil or water or greasy food. we might’ve fucked ourselves for life, bi.”

but if there’s one thing that always helped for eunbi, it was a nice, long bath. steaming hot water that burned her skin and the prettiest bath bombs to make the entire bathroom smell of strawberries and cream.

so even though you didn’t want to, nothing more comfortable than eunbi’s king size bed and warm, fluffy comforter, you allowed the girl to drag you to the bathroom down the hall to set up ‘your last resort, hangover paradise.’

it consisted of every type of bath bomb and lotion and bubble bath the luxurious could dream of, sending her out immediately when you saw her sneaking in with a glass of champagne.

“are you crazy?” you ask, dipping your toe in the water to test the temperature. “that’s what started this disaster.”

“fine, more for me!” she squeals happily, turning down the lights and pressing the bluetooth button for your phone’s music. “enjoy. i’ll see you in an hour, completely hangover free.”

“we’ll see about that,” you grumble, your words falling on deaf ears as she locks and closes the door to makes her way back to her ensuite.

and as much as you wanna give eunbi shit for her pompous tactics and techniques for everything in life, you have to say that this is certainly helping.

soaking in the steaming hot water, with cucumbers on your eyes and quiet music playing through the ceiling speakers. the jets in the tub also added another layer of relaxation to it, healing your sore muscles from days of waking up on a hard, wooden floor.

the mirrors were steamed and the room was boiling by the time you got out, stepping on the fuzzy bath mat and drying yourself off with a towel. you had tried not to get your hair wet but it proved useless, your relaxed body sinking further and further down until nearly your whole head was wet.

you stretch your arms above your head as you let out a content groan, feeling the best you’ve felt in three days and ready to take a nap.

but it’s at that moment, looking around the large steaming bathroom, that you realized you didn’t bring a change of clothes in. meaning you’ll know have to walk done the hall and into eunbi’s room in just a towel.

it’s fairly late, almost 11:30, so you’re hoping that her parents are in their rooms and fast asleep by now.

you peak your head out, feeling like a spy in a cheesy action movie as you look up and down the hall. you turn off the light once the coast is clear, walking quietly but quickly down to eunbi’s room - or wing, as it could be considered

you’re almost out of the gate, just a few more steps until you round the corner down eunbi’s hallway, when seonghwa’s tall figure is coming right up the stairs.

his head is down as he looks at his phone, still in his dress shirt and tie from his long day at work. you noticed that after the holidays, he’s been around the house less - working from home when he can but also needing to go into the office more often than not.

he’s at the top of the stairs when he finally notices your figure watching him, wrapped in a towel with a flush on your cheeks and your wet hair dripping on the floor.

it seems to be the thing to break him right now, not able to tear his eyes away or think of any fun, flirty comments to keep you from suppressing the need to roll your eyes.

because his days have been long and stressful and the only thing he needs right now is to just get off - and then there you are like something his prayers have answered, standing there quiet and awestruck at the sight of his loose tie and messy black hair he’s been running his hands through all day.

“h-hi, mr. park,” your quiet voice says, sweet and soft-spoken and utterly apologetic, like you’re embarrassed to be caught in just your towel - and he supposes that would make sense, to feel embarrassed about getting caught like this your friend’s father.

but he can’t find it in himself to care right now, two seconds away from dragging you down to his office so he can finally fuck you over his desk - but he knows that would be the worst decision in the world, for countless reasons.

“hi, y/n,” he grumbles back just as low, leant against the railing with a voice that sounds defeated and gruff.

“are you okay?” you ask, something about his voice and demeanor off.

he has to hold back a strangled laugh, his lips quirking up before he bites down on his lip.

“i’m... i’m fine, thanks. work’s just busy,” he says, a certain part of his chest warming at the fact you even asked - he knows his wife won’t when he walks in their bedroom in a few minutes.

“oh, okay,” you respond, twirling with the end of your towel nervously. “well... i’m sorry to hear that.”

he allows himself to let out a chuckle this time, shaking his head as he looks over your bare, wet face; you’re too pretty for your own good, he’s not even sure you realize just how pretty you are.

just how much he really wants you and just how much he’s coming to like seeing you in his house everyday.

“it’s alright, that’s why you gotta do something you love, right?” he quips, his long fingers up to recreate a camera, pressing down as if to snap a photo.

it cause you to let out a soft, genuine giggle, nodding your head and easing the slight embarrassment of him catching you in a towel.

“right,” you say with a smile, shy smiles and gazes shared until you finally look away in fear of your cheeks warming again.

but it doesn’t stop him from admiring the view of you, your bare face and exposed chest before the towel covers up all the parts he wants to so desperately explore.

he pictures dropping your towel and hearing it fall to the floor with a plop, take in the sight of your perky boobs and hard nipples in the air.

drop his mouth just a little bit to your neck, pressing small kisses against your skin as his fingers knead your nipples, all the quiet moans and breaths to make sure you two don’t get caught shooting right to his cock.

he probably wouldn’t be able to control himself, sliding a finger into you right then and there in the middle of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall to have you trapped against his larger body.

he’d pump his finger in and out of you slowly and tauntingly, hearing how wet you are and feeling how tight you are. it’d be similiar to how this past month has just been both of you taunting and teasing and beating around the bush, occasionally letting his fingers curl to his your g-spot or graze your sensitive clit.

and then he’d drop to his knees to taste you. make sure he sucks and licks and takes your clit in his warm mouth that you’re-

“i should get back to eunbi,” you finally say, breaking the silence and ripping him from his dirty, hidden fantasies. you can’t take the lust and desire in his eyes that you see when he looks at you, an painful ache building between your legs more and more.

“goodnight, mr. park.”

you nearly run into eunbi’s room and slam the door had you not seen her sleeping form, passed out right there in the middle of her bed wearing a baby pink robe.

you look beside her to see an extra one laid out, a silky lilac one that causes a small smile to cross your face.

you’ve never felt material like this on your skin, basking in the feeling of the smooth, silky material as you clean up her room quietly - both to tidy up and distract you from the ache in your legs and last encounter with her father.

for eunbi growing up with housekeepers and nannies her whole life, it always surprised you how clean and tidy your roommate was; the sink was never full of dishes and you alternated vacuuming the living room carpet.

but it’s obvious all of that is a facade because since the moment she got home, her messy ways have shown through - you find it endearing, though, and it’s all very eunbi: a homey, lived in mess of luxurious items and articles of clothing worth more than your childhood home.

the girl in question had moved to the right side in her sleep as you cleaned, a quiet chuckle leaving your mouth. you look to see both your water bottles are empty, deciding on the brave decision to go downstairs to grab two new ones.

the last time you’d done that, you thought for sure mr. park was gonna jump your bones - and you know you were gonna let him.

your mind is littered with memories of that night as you make your way through the dark house of twists and turns, carefully going down the stairs as you walk toward the kitchen.

there’s a room with beautiful double doors on your left, a room you’ve walked past hundreds of times throughout your stay here. eunbi told you it was her dad’s first floor office, where he usually worked and had his meetings from home.

the first thing you notice from down the hall is that the door is slightly cracked open, a peak in from the dimly lit kitchen showcasing some fancy decor of a globe.

as you make your way closer and closer, your ears are met with a quiet, strangled groan that causes you to stop in your tracks; your mind begins to race with a million different scenarios of what you could be walking past right now.

your first thought is that you’re about to see mr. and mrs. park in a very compromising position over his desk - and, as sick as it sounds, as delusional and crazy and absurd as it sounds, that prospect makes your stomach sink and twist painfully.

but that would be normal, you suppose; they’re a fucking married couple after all and seonghwa had seemed stressed from work. obviously he was gonna ask his wife to help calm him down and relax him.

get all of his stress out in the form of-

you shake your head before you can even think about it, forcing your feet to move past the office doors.

and it’s like you can’t even stop yourself from peeking in, confirming to see if your thoughts are correct and you’re about to be gutted, when you take in the sight before you.

seonghwa still in his loose tie and white dress shirt, pants around his ankles and his head thrown back in his office chair as his own hand jerks his cock off.

everything about it is dirty and wrong and you know you shouldn’t be looking in but you can’t stop.

you can’t stop watching the way his hand works around his cock expertly, long and thick and so fucking nice it nearly makes you drool. the thought of you on your knees before him, taking him in your mouth and licking and sucking around the tip, making you bite back a moan.

you can’t stop your eyes from looking at his face, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with his neck on display - perfect for you to bite and give hickies, if you were on top straddling him.

you can’t stop the painful ache and wetness seeping in your thong as you watch him get off, his groans and grunts and heavy breaths making you wanna whine out in arousal.

and it’s that suppression right there, getting so worked up and horny over the sight of your peeping tina activities, that cause you to pull yourself away.

because as much as you don’t want to and as much as you wanna help him, you can’t.

you can only scramble into the kitchen and get water as fast and quiet as humanly possible, scurrying past the office and up the stairs with the stealthiness of a lion.

you can only lay in bed with the thoughts of your roommate’s father and the noises he makes, the sight of his cock and the hand movements replaying over and over in your mind.

and you realize that night, with only a few more days until you both have to leave for the spring semester, you can only hope to never see mr. park again.

let this flirtation and fascination and utterly screwed up infatuation with your roommate’s dad be nothing but a dirty memory you’ll keep to yourself for the rest of your life.

because if it’s not, if you have to see him again and have him in your daily life again, you won’t be able to hold yourself back.

your lust will turn deeper and you’ll find yourself in a much bigger issue than damp underwear and secret, forbidden moments with mr. park seonghwa.

you should’ve known with only two days left of your stay that eunbi was gonna let the news slip.

you were at least grateful for the fact that mrs. park had a charity ball with her clan of “botox getting, bitchy sounding gold diggers who need to desperately get laid,” successfully riding her of your last friday night dinner.

“so you girls don’t want a new apartment then?” seonghwa asked, glass of wine in his hand as he looks at the two of you questioningly. “that building’s looking for a new owner, eunbi, i think it’d be perfect for you both.”

“dad don’t be ridiculous, we can’t own the building!” eunbi says, swatting her dad playfully as she shovels a piece of food in her mouth. she’s casual and comfortable without her mom’s prying eyes and biting tone, her foot resting on the white fabric beneath her.

“and besides, i might be alone in there soon. we still don’t know if y/n is gonna be starting her-”

you kick the girl under the table roughly, her face pulling into a wince as a cry leaves her mouth.

“ow, y/n! what the he-”

but it’s upon seeing your white face and annoyed expression that she realizes what she said, her mouth falling open and silent as she looks at you apologetically.

“oh shit...”

you can only shoot her a pained, sarcastic smile, daringly looking at seonghwa who’s watching the two of you with a curious expression.

“what do you mean?”

silence hangs in the air, you and eunbi sharing side eyes and dejected looks with her dad before he cocks an eyebrow at the both of you.

“girls... what do you mean?” he asks, his voice deeper and more serious, taking on a dad-like tone eunbi isn’t used to hearing from her relaxed, playful father.

and that’s when, before eunbi can open her big mouth any further, you calmly and regretfully explain the situation with your scholarship.

how you got an e-mail a few months ago about alternate funding for the art department and that you were one of the many students who, while keeping up your end of requirements, could not be awarded money.

“it’s awful that they can do that,” seonghwa says, his eyes full of the same sympathy and outrage eunbi’s held - except he knows that this happens all the time. that it’s unfair and sick and a big ploy in the education system that needs incredible reform.

especially when it hurts students like you.

“yeah but it is what it is,” you say, trying your hardest to steer the conversation to literally anything but this (in fear that you’ll scream or start crying or have yet another anxiety attack).

“i can just finish up in the fall, it’s no big deal,” you lie through our teeth, a sad smile on your face as you look at eunbi. “i’m just sorry it messes up our combined graduation party.”

a frown crosses eunbi’s face as she smacks you in the arm, pulling you closer to her just so she could cuddle herself into your arm.

“i will wait for you,” she proclaims dramatically, a pout on her lips and starry-eyed look in her gaze. “i will wait as long as i have to. if they delay it any further, father, you will simply have to sue the school.”

“father, huh?” seonghwa hums lowly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

father is the term eunbi uses when she wants to use him and his money, whether it be blackmailing unfair teachers or shitty students or calling for him when her and her mom are fighting.

“yes, father,” she says, looking to you with a sweet, apologetic smile on her face.

“i’m serious, y/n. we got your back,” she quips with a wink, a pained smile on your face that she knows means you can’t wait to let her have it when you two are alone.

“you had one job, eunbi, and you were doing so good,” you say in her room later that night, pacing back and forth as she sits on her bed like a scolded child. “literally two nights left and you let it slip out!”

“i’m sorry, okay!” she whines for the ninth time, a pout on her face as she plays with fingers; you wanna roll your eyes seeing it, knowing for a fact that’s something she does when she’s in trouble with jiwoon.

“i didn’t mean to, it just slipped out!” she begins to defend, “and it was only my dad! he wouldn’t dare say a bad word about you, y/n, he loves you.”

you ignore the twinge in your chest when you hear her say those words, feeling a tad guilty at the bodily reaction you have about her own father. how much you’re hiding from her and that you have these suppressed feelings and secret moments in the first place.

“loves me or not, bad word or not, it’s still embarrassing, eunbi,” you say, a frown on your lips as you start to hear the situation aloud.

“i still can’t pay for my tuition and have to wait almost a whole year to take a degree in fucking photography. like how embarrassing is that, all of this just for me never find a job and live in a box.”

you’ve only seen a flash of anger on eunbi’s face a few times in your life, the incident with the dorm girls and her dad and when a sorority girl tried to kiss jiwoon at the bar.

and you see it right now, her small but mighty frame jumping off the bed and lunging toward you quickly.

“are you kidding me!” she squeals, smacking you in the arm and pushing you down on the bed.

“what the hell do you mean a degree in fucking photography? or living in a box? you’re gonna be the best photographer in the world and shoot every event in my life and charge me quadruple the amount!”

a smile pulls at your lips as you hear her go on and on, hype you up and build up your confidence and tell you to never talk that way about yourself again. how there’s nothing embarrassing about not being able to afford thousands of dollars when you were alerted about the expense on such short notice.

“okay, okay, i know that,” you eventually give in, letting out a sigh as you flop down on her bed. “it’s just.... stressful. i can’t move back home but i also need to get like, a real job. a job that’s gonna pay well so i can save up as much as possible.”

“and we’ll find you that when we get back,” she says, assuring with a confident look in her eye and her hands in yours. “i can promise you, with or without my father’s connections, we’re getting you a job.”

her words prove to reassure you for the remainder of the night, when, after she kisses your ass a little more, asks if she can go to jiwoon’s for a little.

you spent that time in her room looking at nearby job offerings and building up your resume and cover letters, working well into the night hours with a text from jiwoon that she fell asleep and will be back in the morning.

you stretch your arms above your head with a quiet groan, noting it’s almost one o’clock and you’re fucking parched yet again.

it’s no surprise to you when the lights in the kitchen are on, dimly light and no noise around as you pad your way to the fridge.

you almost expect the footsteps that come in a few moments later, when you take a sip from your water and close the fridge without hesitation.

“have you told your parents about tuition?”

you’re confused by the statement that leaves seonghwa’s mouth, brows pulled together and a sinking feeling in your stomach at this conversation again - because as if tuition wasn’t enough, he just had to bring up your parents.

but you don’t wanna beat around the bush any longer; you two seem to do that enough.

“me and my parents don’t talk,” you say, straight forward and quiet as you look right at him.

it’s the first time he sees you look a little broken and defeated, a certain kind of sadness shining behind your eyes that makes him wanna pull him into you. it feels like a protective instinct he’s used to, caring for the people in his life and not wanting to see them struggle.

“they wouldn’t help me anyway.”

this protective instinct feels a little different in this moment, something else tugging in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a very long time - not until he started seeing you more.

“but it’d be a shame if you didn’t finish, y/n. you got so far and you’ve done so well for yourself.”

you smile a little at the praise, tongue rolling over your lips in a way he certainly doesn’t miss - but this moment isn’t about that. it’s not something he cares even a little bit about right now.

“thank you, mr. park, but i am gonna finish,” you say with finality, the confident and sure tone making a strange sort of pride swell inside of him.

“i just have to save up money and i’ll start in the fall. it’s really not that big of a deal,” you tell him with a smile, taking a few steps back so you don’t feel too crowded by him.

“eunbi’s gonna help me look for jobs when i get back,” you say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you look at him. “a big girl job. something real and hard, that’s gonna make me super stressed and agitated.”

so much so that i have to get off at the thought of you.

a deep chuckle bubbles out of him that you match with ease, the two of you sharing small smiles and quiet giggles in the middle of this spotless, white kitchen.

“can’t do what you love quite yet, i guess,” seonghwa says, his eyes roaming your face so slowly and carefully, it makes you a tad bit nervous.

you hadn’t realized how natural and easy this conversation was between you two, like you were talking to someone you’d known your whole life opposed to someone you’ve barely known for four years.

his hand itches to reach up and touch your hair, tuck the soft, silky looking strand behind your ear and watch your cheeks heat up when your skin touches; but instead, he smiles down at you, inching closer until he’s just looming over you and staring down at you with a soft, undetectable look in his eye.

“but it’ll be worth it in the end, i think. it’s just gonna... take some time.”

you lick over our lips, throat and mouth suddenly so incredibly dry, as you nod your head.

“yeah, i think so, too,” you say, your lips smushing together nervously before you open your mouth to speak again - this could be one of the last times you’re alone with him.

“thank you for letting me stay with you guys, mr. park. it’s been... really nice spending time with people for the holidays.”

he feels his heart twinge in his chest again, his eyes falling down to your lips and swearing he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad in his life.

“of course, y/n, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, a smile quirking at his lips with a hint of something you just can’t quite make out. “maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

it was five days before classes started that you got the confirmation e-mail - a message confirming your tuition for the spring semester was paid in full and your current balance was $0.

you had to look over the message for three whole hours making sure you had read the e-mail correctly, even going as far to call the bursar office to make sure they had the correct address.

but they had confirmed with surety that your balance was paid off, urging you to quickly sign up for the classes you need before the day was over.

“okay, you will never believe what interview i was able to score for you,” eunbi says the moment she walks in the apartment, shopping bags up her arm and gucci sunglasses perched atop her head.

“i’ll admit, the vibe was a little off with the coworkers but i think it’d be a great opportunity to-” her eyes catch your laptop screen on the school website, a list of classes and times on your screen that causes her eyes to widen.

“oh?” she squeals, running over and throwing herself down on the couch beside you. “what the heck are you doing? are you... did you...?”

the lie came way too quick and easy to you, excitedly blabbering out that there was a change in the system and your scholarship was approved - “i think they felt bad that i was a graduating senior,” you said, eunbi’s face pulled into the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

she clapped and danced and bounced around in excitement, proclaiming you guys just had to go out and get drinks to celebrate the fact that your surprise party was back on.

but you could only sit there with your thoughts and suspicions and this overwhelming feeling deep within your stomach that, while eunbi definitely doesn’t know, her father might’ve just paid your college tuition in full.

(part 2)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @arkive78

#alright here we go again #shes up fr now jfdkvkd #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa series #ateez series

2K notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The Maid – Part One of Three

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Virgin!Reader

Words: 5095

Warning: Smut

Summary: It was Sunday Evening and you working at a nightclub in London. This was your first job and today you were to meet an interesting man who would make you a job offer that you couldn’t refuse. When you took up the job with him, you got so much more than you bargained for.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @chrisevanshoeee @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @captivatedbycillianmurphy @fookingshelby @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower

--------

Meeting a Stranger

‘Good Evening Sir, may I get you a drink?’ you asked as you looked up into his deep blue eyes.

‘Whiskey. Irish please’ the man said without looking at you as he lit himself a cigarette.

It was unusual for men in this establishment not to make eye contact. It was almost like he was disinterested in his surroundings.

When he lifted up his whiskey glass, you noticed his wedding band. Of course, he was married and here to cheat on his wife.

She probably no longer satisfied his needs. But what did you know? Being 19 years old and rather shy, you had never been with a man.

It wasn’t long until the mistress arrived at the bar which also was unusual. He must be a special guest if the mistress herself was taking the time to talk to him.

‘Mr Shelby, I apologise, but Laura is absent tonight. Clara might be of interest’ the mistress said.

‘Not Clara. Someone new’ he responded.

‘Of course. I will make arrangements’ the mistress said before excusing herself.

Just as the mistress had left, the man ordered a second glass of whiskey.

‘Your name is Shelby?’ you asked surprised as you served him. ‘Are you related to Thomas Shelby by any chance?’ you added.

Without a response, he finally looked up at you. His eyes widened and his facial expression changed, almost like he had seen a ghost.

‘Is everything alright?’ you asked as you didn’t receive a response to your question.

‘You remind me of someone I used to know’ he responded. ‘You just look like her’ he added.

‘So I’ve been told. It’s a shame I never got to meet her’ you said, knowing exactly that he was talking about your half sister Greta Jurossi.

Greta and her mother passed away of consumption before you were born. Your father became very upset by their passing and found comfort in your mother who he fathered two children with. You were the oldest.

Your half-sister Kitty Jurossi spoke about Thomas Shelby quite frequently as the love of Greta’s life. They had been together since they were 16 and you know that he left for France shortly after Greta passed at the age of 19.

Just as Tommy introduced himself to you and began asking you questions, the mistress returned and advised Tommy that arrangements had been made.

‘I changed my mind’ Tommy said. ‘Although, I would like Miss Jerossi to accompany me. I will cover her wages for the night’ Tommy said, causing your heart to skip a beat.

‘Mr Shelby, I am afraid to inform you that she has no experience. She is not one of our working girls. She is simply a barmaid. Although, if you insist and this is something you wish to explore further, we could perhaps come to some to an arrangement’ the mistress said.

You were speechless and felt like you were auctioned off to the highest bidder.

‘I am not intending to fuck her. I would simply like to continue our conversation, eh’ Tommy said sheepishly, catching the mistress by surprise.

‘This should be enough for her time and for you to put another barmaid on for the evening’ he added as he handed her 10 pounds.

‘Of course, Mr Shelby, thank you’ the mistress said before telling you to get your coat.

You grabbed your coat and met Tommy at the front of the club. Just as you arrived, he had lid himself a cigarette.

‘Common’ he said before you followed him to his car.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked. You were still slightly uncomfortable about the situation unfolding right in front of you.

‘A place I know’ he said as he drove off and, within ten minutes, you pulled up in front of a nightclub of a different kind. It was full of artists, a band was playing in the background and everyone enjoyed champaign and cocaine.

‘Common, have a seat’ Tommy said as he sat down with you in a somewhat private area.

He ordered you a drink and began to talk about Greta, his long-lost love. You were still unsure why you were there, with him. Whilst he asked you several questions about your life and your circumstances, it was mostly him who was doing the talking.

After several hours of talking, on the stroke of midnight, Tommy made you a proposal which was too good to refuse.

He offered you a job in Birmingham, as a maid. Apparently, his household was short-staffed and his wife needed more assistance. He was of the view that working in an up-market brothel as a barmaid was no job for a woman like you. Somehow, he didn’t know you, but he cared. He was concerned that, the longer you work there, the more likely it will become that you be asked to do more than just serve drinks.

His offer was kind and you accepted it with caveat that you had no experience as a maid.

He assured you that you will learn all you need to know on the job.

New Life

A week after your encounter with Thomas Shelby, your new life began.

You were introduced to the household and tried the best you could to settle in.

Most days, you were on your own with the other maids, Elizabeth Shelby, who was Tommy’s wife and Tommy’s two children.

Tommy’s wife Lizzie disliked you for obvious reasons. She insisted on older and experienced maids and it was evident to her why Tommy had hired you.

For a while you tried very hard to make Lizzie like you, but nothing took away the apprehension she had in respect of you.

Whilst you could understand her concerns, Tommy had never made any advances towards you. After all, you were much younger than him.

But, over the next few weeks, you learned why Lizzie was so apprehensive. Her marriage to Tommy was on the verge of breaking.

According to Sarah, one of the maids, Tommy and Lizzie were no longer sleeping in the same bedroom and she overheard Lizzie speaking to a solicitor in London to ascertain what her options were if she was to divorce him.

Sarah was of the view that there is no love between Tommy and Lizzie. There never has been.

Lizzie enjoyed the life and the money. Apparently, she used to be a working girl in Birmingham and this is how she met Tommy.

They used to sleep together, quite frequently, until one day she fell pregnant. When Tommy became a member of parliament, he married her. Clearly, he had to appear to be doing the right thing in a position like that.

Sarah herself had her eyes on Tommy and was the only other young maid who managed to stay. For some reason not apparent to you, Lizzie tolerated her. Perhaps she knew too much. After all, one of the reasons maids stayed at the Shelby household was because they were paid well, much better than in other households. Sarah was one of the few maids who had access to Thomas Shelby’s office and it was likely that she had to put a blind eye on the illegal activities Thomas Shelby engaged in.

Every Thursday Evening at 8 o’clock, Sarah would go to Tommy’s office and she would be there for an hour exactly. You timed it, right to the second, every week.

One week, you managed to quietly pass by the office on a Thursday evening at half past eight and you could hear them being intimate.

To your surprise, despite their weekly encounters, Tommy was cold towards her. He didn’t treat her differently to any of the other maids. It appeared to you that the sex they have was no more than another business transaction for Tommy.

Whilst Tommy wasn’t around much, when he was, he was different with you. He was kind and warm in his own way. You were the youngest maid in the household and even Francis said that you get away with mistakes that aren’t usually tolerated because Mr Shelby seems to have soft spot for you. Sometimes, he would even smile at you and you began to like him more than you should have liked a man his age. Sometimes, you even imagined what it would be like if it was you in Tommy’s office with him instead of Sarah.

To your surprise, after a month of you being at the Shelby house, Tommy started to call you into his office as well. You recalled the first time. It was a Tuesday evening, 8 o’clock and you were nervous.

Whilst you could imagine yourself sleeping with him, you had never been with a man before.

But, intimacy and sex was not what Tommy was after. He simply enjoyed your company and you would talk for hours, about horses, racing and politics.

Like a real gentleman, he kept his distance, offering you a drink and a cigarette while you talked and talking was all you ever did.

Sarah noticed reasonably quickly that your Tuesday night encounters with Tommy became a habit and once she even overheard you referring to him as Tommy as opposed to Mr Shelby.

Tommy insisted that you call him Tommy when you talked in private. It was not part of your work and he said that he felt old every time you called him ‘Mr Shelby’.

As another four weeks had passed, you could see the man within him who your step sister fell in love with and Kitty had spoken so highly about. He appeared to you every Tuesday evening at 8 o’clock, a different man.

Mistakes Happen

To Lizzie’s and Francis’s annoyance, you made many mistakes. Burnt toast was just one of them. But none of that bothered Tommy.

As it has happened, one day you even managed to break an incredibly expensive vase as you paid more attention to Tommy getting dressed through the crack of his bedroom door. It was a sheer accident which probably wouldn’t have happened if you paid more attention to what you were doing at the time rather than Tommy’s naked chest.

‘I am so sorry Mr Shelby, I didn’t mean to drop this’ you said, totally embarrassed and flustered as the vase dropped to the floor and, hearing the shatter, Tommy emerged from his bedroom.

‘It’s alright Y/N, seriously. It’s just a vase, eh’ Tommy said with a smile on his face as he bent over, helping you to collect the pieces.

‘Please Mr Shelby, I can do this’ you said with some embarrassment. Your cheeks were flushed by the sight of him, wearing nothing but his suit pants.

Tommy’s eyes gazed over to you as he picked up the pieces and it was clear to you that he noticed your flushed cheeks.

‘Tommy, what are you doing?’ Lizzie said as she observed him collecting pieces of broken porcelain with you from the floor.

‘What does it look like Lizzie?’ Tommy asked. It was clear to you that they were fighting, again. They always fought. Sometimes you wondered why they were married at all.

The constant arguing between Tommy and Lizzie was exhausting. It exhausted everyone, even the maids.

‘I’ve got it Mr Shelby, please’ you said as you put more pieces of the broken vase into a bucket.

‘See, she’s got it Tommy, now would you please see Arthur. He is downstairs yelling and Charles has started to pick up the swear words’ Lizzie said.

‘Alright Lizzie, fuck’ he said as he got up and left you to it. As you were cleaning up the last of the broken pieces, you overheard Lizzie talk to Ada about you.

‘I really don’t know why Thomas had to employ her instead of someone more experienced’ she said.

‘She looks exactly like Greta, his first ever love, that’s why Lizzie’ Ada responded.

‘Well then he should have left her at the whorehouse and visit her there’ Lizzie said frustrated before walking off.

Lizzie’s comment made you rather upset and you were beginning to feel even more uncomfortable at the house with every day that went by.

Lizzie had begun to notice Tommy’s favouritism towards you and it was clear to you that she did not want you around.

After another two weeks, you couldn’t bare it any longer and decided to resign. The tension between you and Lizzie had become too much to tolerate.

You handed your written resignation to Tommy at noon on a Monday and, just as he read it, he walked to his office door and closed it behind him.

‘Sit down Y/N, have a drink’ Tommy said, causing you to flush.

‘Common’ Tommy said as he poured yourself a glass of whiskey, neat, before sitting down on one of the arm chairs.

You sat down across from him as he handed you the glass of whiskey.

‘I cannot accept this’ he said as he took a sip from his glass.

‘Tommy, I cannot continue to work for you. I am not suited for this job and I am fairly sure that neither your wife nor Francis like me very much’ you explained.

‘That might be right but, in the end of the day, I make the decisions, eh’ Tommy said. ‘And I would like you to stay’ he added.

‘Why? You can easily find a better maid’ you laughed.

‘Because you are smart Y/N and I enjoy your company. Please’ Tommy said.

‘Alright, I will give it another month and then reconsider’ you said.

‘Good’ Tommy smiled. ‘I see you tomorrow at the usual time?’ he asked, causing you to nod with a smile.

It was difficult for you to deny Tommy especially since your attraction towards him was growing, becoming almost unhealthy in a way. Why would you feel like this around a man who was twice your age? You wanted him and stayed around in the hope that he would offer you more than employment.

And just like this, with Thomas Shelby in the back of your mind, you went on with your work.

It’s Fucking Tuesday

Tuesday evening approached quickly and you couldn’t wait to see Tommy.

At 8 o’clock, you sneaked into his office as usual, barefoot and without knocking so that no one would notice.

Little did you know that, that evening, you would reveal a lot more to Tommy than you had initially anticipated.

As such, after two glasses of whiskey and a couple of cigarettes, you spoke honestly about your political views. You too were in support of communism and felt as though Tommy had lost his way in his political campaigns for the Labour Party.

‘The good old cause, eh’ Tommy laughed after you outlined to him where the Labour Party went wrong in your opinion. ‘You know Y/N, you remind me of someone, someone who was just as idealistic and passionate about changing the world as you are’ he added.

‘I’ve been told that before, by my father. He used to get rather frustrated with us both’ you said.

‘Kitty said that you were idealistic and in favour of an armed revolution once yourself. But then she told me that all of this changed after the war. The same Tommy never came back from France. You had changed. But I am not sure if I am willing to believe that’ you added.

‘No one came back Y/N’ Tommy said. ‘The war changed everyone’ he added.

‘That is true but, I think that the Tommy she spoke so highly about many years ago is still in there somewhere. I’ve seen it. You are still a man with ideals and a man who cares, even if you don’t want to admit it. If you didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here’ you said as you walked over in front of where Tommy was sitting in order to fill up your glass of whisky.

For a moment, you placed your empty glass on to the desk besides him and kneeled down in front of him.

‘You are a good man, Tommy. A good man who does bad things sometimes where necessary and the world needs more men just like you’ you said before you leaned in and pressed your lips onto his.

Without the two glasses of whiskey, you would never have been able to build up the courage to do this, but there you were, kissing Thomas Shelby.

Tommy gave into the kiss for a moment, his lips dancing with yours but his hands not leaving his chair.

‘This is wrong Y/N’ Tommy said as your lips drifted apart.

‘Yes’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his for a short moment. ‘Yes, it is’ you added and, just in that moment, Tommy leaned forward caressing your face and returning the kiss.

This is what you wanted for so long, his lips on yours and your tongues exploring each other.

After about a minute, Tommy pulled away, looking into your dark eyes.

‘This is a bad idea Y/N’ Tommy said again, still cupping your face.

‘Well, then tell me that you don’t want me and I will leave right now’ you said.

‘I want you alright, but you are half my age’ Tommy said.

‘So what? You are Thomas Shelby, you can have whoever you want’ you said and, just like that, your hands reached for the buckle of his belt, undoing it slowly.

You could hear Tommy inhale deeply and knew exactly that he likes to be pleasured this way. You had never done any of this, but the working girls at the brothel spoke about it frequently. Sometimes, you saw them do it, in a quite corner of the club or the lavatories if the men liked to be watched.

‘Have you ever done this before?’ Tommy asked, looking down at you, his hand tangled in your hair. He could tell that you were nervous and completely out of your comfort zone.

You shook your head shyly and, as much as Tommy wanted to feel your mouth on his cock, he wanted you to feel entirely comfortable with what you were doing.

‘Come up’ he said, taking your hands and guiding you up towards him before pressing his lips onto yours for a passionate kiss.

‘You don’t want me to?’ you asked as you broke the kiss and Tommy buckled up his belt.

‘Trust me, I want you to’ Tommy smirked, cupping your face again.

‘But not like this’ Tommy said before giving you another kiss.

Just after your lips drifted apart, your eyes wandered downwards where could see Tommy’s erection pushing against his pants. He clearly was ready and you wondered why he stopped you.

‘Tomorrow, after 10 o’clock, in your room. If you want me to come, you leave your bedside lamp on. I will see the light through the bottom of the door. If you don’t want me to come then turn it off and I won’t, alright?’ Tommy said.

Tommy wanted you to be sure about this. Not influenced by whiskey and not in the heat of the moment.

You agreed to his suggestion and, after a few more kisses, you left his office.

A Night to Remember

The next evening, after you finished work for the day and had dinner, you made your way to your room. You had a bath, washed your hair and got dressed in some lingerie.

The fire was lid and, just as instructed, you left on the bedside lamp. It was only 9 o’clock and you had to wait another hour before Tommy would meet you. You tried to kill the time by reading a book, but you couldn’t think about anything but Tommy and what was about to happen.

You wondered what it would be like to be with a man, especially a man like him. He was clearly experienced. Nonetheless, you were worried that it would be painful.

Five minutes to ten, you put the book that you weren’t really reading aside and put on some perfume. You wanted to smell nice for him.

You positioned yourself on the bed, seductively. Your black lace underwear was highlighted by the light of the bedside lamp. Your hair was open, your curls running over your shoulders. Your porcelain pale skinned was complimented by the dark red lipstick you had borrowed from one of the maids.

Waiting impatiently, just as the clock stroke ten, you could hear the door opening.

‘You look beautiful’ Tommy smirked.

‘Just for you’ you said shyly, taking in a deep breath as Tommy walked over towards you.

He was wearing nothing but underpants and you couldn’t help but stare at his perfect body.

It wasn’t long until he climbed onto the bed with you and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss.

The kiss was urgent and his lips tasted like sweet whiskey. He took his time, his hands roaming over your body while his tongue was dancing with yours.

It wasn’t long until he found the clip of your bra and he opened it with ease.

‘If I would have known that it would come off so quickly, I wouldn’t have spent half my weekly wage on it’ you giggled.

‘Just an unnecessary piece of fabric’ Tommy chuckled as his fingers began to trace the lines of your body, curving around your now naked breasts, stroking and teasing your nipples.

His lips soon moved from your mouth down to your neck and then all the way to your breasts.

‘Mmhm’ you moaned as he began to bite your nipples gently while his hands roamed downwards to your stomach and then your lace panties.

Tommy hooked his thumbs in your panties and slowly drew them down your legs, leaving you totally exposed.

While kissing over your breasts gently, one of his hands moved directly in between your legs and his index finger traced through your wet slit, dipping into slightly.

You inhaled sharply and tensed up suddenly and unintentionally. Tommy could feel your body become stiff and your legs closing around his hand.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Tommy asked as he moved upwards slightly, worried that this was too much too soon for you.

‘No Tommy, I want you’ you said desperately before pressing your lips back onto his.

‘Please’ you then said again as your lips drifted apart.

‘Alright. I will take it slow and you will tell me if I hurt you or if you want me to stop. Agreed?’ he said, causing you to nod.

And just like that, his lips met your again before he started to trail kisses down your body.

Just as he reached your stomach, he stopped and lowered himself further, right in between your legs.

Tommy hooked one of your calves around his shoulder and then started kissing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You had no idea what he was doing until he got closer and closer to your already soaking wet mound.

‘Tommy, what are you doing?’ you asked nervously. His face was so close to your most intimate parts that you flushed from embarrassment.

‘You’ll see’ he smirked just before, all of a sudden, he dipped his tongue to meet your sex.

‘Oh god’ you cried out, partly from pleasure and partly from the exhilaration of a sensation entirely foreign to your body.

He drew lazy circles around your clit, making your legs twitch of their own volition. Your hand nestled in Tommy’s hair, stroking it as you moaned.

Tommy adapted quickly, gauging your moans and learning your sweet spots.

While his tongue circled over your client, he carefully and slowly pushed a finger into you.

You tensed, but relaxed quickly as you couldn’t feel any pain.

He began to thrust it in and out in time with the rhythm of his tongue.

You felt dizzy, quivering with anticipation as heat pooled deep in your belly.

You whimpered, whispering "please" over and over again as you felt yourself on the verge of exploding. No orgasm you had ever given yourself had been like this—it felt electric.

Tommy could soon feel your walls tightening around his finger and increased the speed of his thrusts.

You clapped a hand over your mouth and screamed as you came, your back arching, legs shaking, hips grinding against him. Even after you were past your highest peak, you felt the energy tingling, jolting through you, inspiring little sighs.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him grin, wiping your nectar from his face with the back of his hand.

‘I think you are ready now eh’ he smirked before taking off his underpants.

He was large, larger than you had imagined.

You took in a deep breath, knowing exactly what was to come next.

Tommy could see the nervousness and concern on your face.

‘Don’t worry, I will go slow and we can stop at any time, alright’ he said as he positioned himself in between your legs.

‘Tommy, are you sure it will fit, I mean…’ you said nervously and, before you could finish your sentence, Tommy interrupted you with a mild chuckle.

‘It will fit Love’ he said before his lips met yours again for passionate kiss.

As he was kissing you gently, he positioned his cock at your entrance and began to press just the head into you.

It felt warm and moist.

Tommy’s normally-cool countenance was wide-eyed and intense as he began pushing into you.

Your breath hissed out in tandem as he began to stretch you open and you couldn’t help it but hold onto his upper arms tightly.

Pushing into you inch by inch, you groaned when he finally met the resistance of your hymen.

‘Tommy, please’ you moaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for what was coming.

Tommy leaned forward, slowly pushing through the resistance.

You both struggled to contain your yelps of pain and pleasure as he tore through you.

Your eyes welled up with tears as your recovered from the white-hot sharpness, but before long it was replaced by a feeling of blissful fullness. You fluttered open my eyes and gave him a lazy smile.

��Are you alright?’ he asked, holding still, allowing you to adjust to his size. His voice was throaty and intense.

‘Yes’. I feel so... fucking... full’ you giggled and, just like that, he began to push deeper, then rocked his hips back out.

He thrusted in a slow, deliberate rhythm, working his cock into you inch by inch.

Every new thrust stretched you out beyond what you thought you could handle.

He looked down in a moment of surprise as your hips began to grind against him, trying to work his cock in and out of you. He chuckled, re-positioning himself for leverage, and began to fuck you.

He began with slower, shallower strokes, finding his rhythm and stretching you out. You could tell that he wanted to go faster, but your walls were gripping too tight for him to pound you just yet without hurting you.

You could see the hunger in Tommy’s features, feel it as his hand tangled in your hair and gave it a sharp tug.

The tug distracted you and gave him the opportunity he needed to thrust hard and deep into you.

You cried out, and the lingering pain in your body was suddenly replaced by explosive pleasure. You threw your arms around his neck and he drew his hips back before pounding you with another powerful thrust, and another, and another.

The sensations—the sound of your bodies slapping together, the smell of sex, the feeling of his body pounding into you—collided suddenly in a violent eruption, and you couldn't contain your cries of pleasure as you came for the second time.

Your pleasure and the feel of your walls spasming around him sent Tommy into overdrive.

He pounded you harder and harder, before tensing and releasing his seed inside you with a shuddering roar.

You both gasped for breath, covered in sweat, hearts racing from the heat of your encounter. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, and you tasted yourself again on his tongue.

‘You are so fucking beautiful’ Tommy said in between kisses before he finally pulled out of you, causing some of his cum mixed with some of your mildly blood-stained juices leak on the sheet.

‘Will you stay with me for the night?’ you asked as you pressed your cheek onto Tommy’s warm chest.

‘You know I can’t’ Tommy said as he ran his hand through your hair. ‘But I’ll stay until you fall asleep eh’ he added before pressing his lips onto to yours yet again.

And so he did, he stayed with you until you drifted off to sleep.

The Aftermath

The next morning, you woke up early. Somewhat sore but full of energy.

Tommy didn’t have to tell you that, what happened last night, had to remain a secret.

Nonetheless, you hoped that you would have an encounter like this with him again soon.

To your surprise, when you got dressed, you noticed the stains on the white sheets.

You pulled them off quickly and decided to get them into the wash before the other maids had to use the laundry facilities.

As you walked into the laundry room with your sheets, you saw Sarah.

‘You are up early?’ you asked surprised.

‘Charles was sick last night and I have to clean his sheets. I think he doesn’t tolerate cows’ milk to be honest’ she said.

‘What about you?’ she asked.

‘Washing my sheets before it gets too busy’ you said shyly.

‘Didn’t you just wash your sheets?’ Sarah asked, taking them off your hands.

‘Sarah, please, let me’ you said. ‘It’s this time of the month’ you said nervously, lying of course, but trying to justify the somewhat small but obvious stains on your sheets.

‘Don’t worry, if I can clean up vomit, I can clean up anything. Despite, you don’t know how to use the new machine’ Sarah chuckled.

With reluctance and embarrassment, you agreed but, just as Sarah placed the stained sheets into the basin, she noticed a familiar scent. Tommy’s aftershave.

‘You know Y/N, you might want to see a doctor’ she said.

‘Why is that?’ you asked.

‘You said that it’s the time of the month for you. You had your menses ten days ago. That’s not normal don’t you think? Unless there is something else you have to hide Y/N?’ Sarah said sharply.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders smut #smut

535 notes · View notes