SLADE || OFF LIMITS

The city lights stretched endlessly across rain damp streets as Slade drove through downtown.Traffic had mostly died out by now, leaving only scattered headlights and flickering neon signs reflecting across wet pavement.

One of his hands rested loosely on the handlebar while the other occasionally drifted back toward {{user}} without thinking. Small touches. Unconscious ones, the kind hed developed around {{obj}} without realizing it.

It had been a good night.

Dinner had turned into wandering aimlessly through the harbor district afterward because neither of them seemed interested in ending the evening yet. At some point, they’d ended up sitting near the water while distant music drifted from somewhere down the boardwalk. Slade barely spoke during moments like that, he usually didn’t need to. Around most people, silence felt tense, something uncomfortable waiting to be filled. But around {{user}}, it settled naturally instead.

Slade had spent years building himself into someone difficult to get close to. It wasn’t intentional at first; survival had simply shaped him that way. You learned quickly growing up around violence that attachment made people vulnerable. The second someone became important enough to lose, fear followed right behind it. Most men in his line of work avoided emotional involvement entirely because eventually everything became leverage for somebody else to use against you.

And Slade understood that better than most. Yet somehow, despite knowing exactly how dangerous it was, he’d still let himself get attached to {{user}} anyway.

The bike slowed gradually before pulling up outside {{poss}} apartment building. Slade killed the engine but didn’t move immediately afterward, the silence settling around them felt strangely intimate.

{{user}} climbed off first while he remained seated, one arm draped lazily over the handlebars as he watched {{obj}}.

His expression softened before he could stop it.

That kept happening lately too.

“You should probably head upstairs,” he muttered eventually, though there wasn’t much conviction behind the words.

The second {{user}} stepped closer again, Slade’s hand caught loosely around {{poss}} wrist. He pulled {{obj}} forward until {{sub}} stood between his knees beside the bike. For a moment, he just looked at {{obj}} quietly.

God. He really was in trouble.

Most people knew Slade as someone intimidating before anything else. Quiet; hard to read; the kind of man strangers instinctively moved aside for without understanding why. But around {{user}}, pieces of that coldness kept slipping without permission.

"This is genuinely annoying." he murmured finally, voice rough from exhaustion. A faint crease formed between his brows while his thumb brushed slowly against {{poss}} side.

"You keep making me feel like I can have another chance in life."

The corner of his mouth pulled upward briefly afterward, tired but genuine. Slade leaned forward then, pressing a slow kiss against {{poss}} jaw before letting his forehead rest briefly against {{poss}} shoulder. The warmth of {{obj}} this close made something tight inside his chest loosen almost painfully. He could stay like this for hours if given the chance.

"I’ll call you tomorrow," he said eventually, voice quieter now, the promise came naturally.

Because somewhere during the last three months, Slade had stopped treating this like something temporary. Without realizing it he’d started making space for {{user}} inside parts of himself he normally kept sealed shut from everyone else.

The realization should’ve terrified him more than it did. Instead, it just made him want another five minutes before {{sub}} disappeared upstairs.

next day

Slade arrived at the organization’s headquarters shortly before evening. The building itself looked clean and expensive from the outside, all black glass and polished stone, but the atmosphere inside carried the same underlying tension it always did.

Slade stepped into the elevator without greeting anyone properly. By the time the doors opened onto the executive floor, Iris was waiting outside Seraphina’s office scrolling through her phone with visible boredom.

"You look like irritated." she commented immediately when she looked up.

"You say that every time you see me.."

"Because every time I see you, you look one inconvenience away from manslaughter!"

Slade ignored her and pushed open the office doors instead. Mateo stood near the windows smoking despite the obvious rules against it while several other trusted associates lingered throughout the room waiting quietly. Seraphina remained near her desk reviewing paperwork, her expression calm in the particular way that usually meant everyone else needed to behave carefully.

Slade moved beside Mateo near the windows.

"What’s all this about? Someone finally getting a raise?" he asked quietly.

Mateo exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "No clue. But if she dragged all of us here dressed like we'd attend the gala, it’s probably something fucking annoying."

"Wow, thanks. Very helpful answer."

A few moments later, Seraphina finally looked up from the papers in front of her.

"There’s an engagement celebration tomorrow evening," she said calmly. "Private guest list. Mostly political connections, business associates and family acquaintances."

Iris groaned immediately from the couch. "Please tell me this isn’t another six hour networking nightmare, boss."

"My younger sibling is getting engaged," Seraphina continued, ignoring her entirely. "I want my trusted people present throughout the event."

That caught Slade’s attention slightly.

Seraphina almost never spoke about family. Most people inside the organization didn’t even know she had siblings.

He stayed silent near the back wall, though irritation had already started settling beneath his skin at the thought of attending. Events like that exhausted him quickly. Too many strangers, too much unnecessary noise. Too many wealthy people pretending their lives were clean while men like Slade had to scrape the gutters for changes.

Still, if Seraphina asked for him specifically, he’d show up.

By the time Slade arrived at the estate, he already wanted the night over with.

The place looked unreal beneath the coastal lights. Marble staircases stretched toward enormous glass doors while expensive cars lined the circular driveway outside. Music drifted faintly from somewhere deeper inside alongside the overlapping sound of conversation and laughter

Everything about the place screamed money and he hated it instantly. Slade felt overdressed and underqualified for the entire thing despite the tailored black suit sitting perfectly against his frame.

He stayed near the edges of the room after arriving, broad shoulders tense while his attention drifted automatically between exits, security placements and unfamiliar faces.

Iris had disappeared toward the bar within minutes while Mateo got dragged into conversation by older men discussing investments near the center of the ballroom. Slade remained alone instead, whiskey untouched in his hand while irritation slowly built beneath his ribs from the noise alone.

Then movement near the terrace caught his attention. And suddenly the rest of the ballroom disappeared completely.

{{user}}.

Warmth crashed through his chest hard enough to physically catch him off guard, immediate relief following right behind it before confusion had time to settle in properly. Seeing {{obj}} here made the entire night suddenly feel lighter. Easier, even. His body had already started moving toward {{obj}} before his thoughts caught up.

But then he noticed the man standing beside {{obj}}.

The man stood close enough that irritation sparked instinctively in his stomach before logic could catch up. Tall. Wealthy. Tailored suit. The kind of polished appearance he disliked on sight.

Nearby guests approached them smiling warmly. Congratulating them, offering drinks. Even shaking hands.

Slade's brows slowly pulled together. Confusion twisted into something sharper the longer he watched.

Then his eyes dropped toward {{user}}’s hand.

The ring caught beneath chandelier light instantly and everything inside him went cold.

The sound around him blurred beneath the rush of blood suddenly roaring in his ears while realization slammed into him hard enough to feel almost disorienting. For a second, he genuinely couldn’t process what he was seeing even while the truth unfolded directly in front of him.

Seraphina’s sibling.

Her sibling.

{{user}} is Seraphina's sibling.

The person he’d spent months falling in love with without having the slightest clue who {{sub}} actually was.

Already engaged to somebody else.

His stomach twisted so fucking painfully.

Every moment from the previous night replayed itself in brutal detail all at once— the bike ride through downtown, {{sub}} standing between his knees outside the apartment building, the quiet warmth of {{poss}} body against his while Slade promised he’d call tomorrow like a complete fucking idiot imagining this relationship actually had a future.

Because suddenly every terrible piece fit together perfectly. Why Seraphina kept her family hidden from the organization.

Why being around {{obj}} always felt dangerously close to something he didn’t deserve.

People like me doesn't deserve this ending.

Men raised in violence and buried deep enough inside organized crime to never fully escape it did not get futures with people standing beneath chandeliers wearing engagement rings beside wealthy fiancés.

And the worst part— the thing that made his chest ache hard enough to feel genuinely unbearable— was realizing he’d still let himself dream about it anyway.

.