[𝔸𝕋𝕋𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ] - Velvet and Veneer x Reader

VIII - FALTER.

a/n: through the power of ADHD meds and sheer will I have written a 10k words chapter in one day AND planned out the entire plot for the rest of this fic...buckle up yall it's about to get REAL crazy from here on out 

also, preview - the next chapter's about to be real spicy. not the spiciest this book will get. but pretty spicy. ur welcome >:)

TW for violent imagery/analogies, intimidation

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fal·ter

start to lose strength or momentum.

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[LOG - October 30th, Year ????]

"(Fake Name), my head huuurtttssss," Veneer dramatically sobbed from the lounge chair he was draped across. Across from him, his sister groaned, as she seemingly was also inflicted with head pain. Currently, you were fixing the two primadonnas coffee in the kitchen, and you couldn't help the annoyed expression that crossed your features at their incessant whining.

Thankfully, it was a good day outside, which calmed your tense nerves. The morning sun shined beautifully through the large glass doors leading to the backyard, and colored the lobby of their mansion in a golden hue. Small waves of light reflected on the ceiling from the water in their giant outdoor pool, making it almost seem like everything was under the sea - minus the drowning part.

Four days ago, you and the superstar duo had visited a high-end club called the Lavure, where you'd experienced both great success and failure. You'd run into Satine, the living lead that Dakota had revealed to you, and even managed to get her number. However, you'd been punished for the first time in ages by your supervisor, who was beginning to think that you were getting distracted.

And, in all honesty, even if you didn't want to admit it, you had gotten distracted.

The heat in the Lauvre and the panic in your soul from your run-in with Satine had made you rather...flighty. You were noticing all the wrong things, like Veneer's cute pouty face, or the way Velvet's nails felt running across your skin...yeah, it was bad.

Which is why you were grateful you'd been knocked down a peg or two.

Back to reality. Back to sensibility.

It was rare for your supervisor to warn someone, let alone give them a second chance. You supposed it was due to your position at your agency. Yes, you'd gotten comfortable with Velvet and Veneer, but apparently too comfortable. You had to find a way to distance yourself.

The drive back was thankfully rather peaceful, but given that the siblings had only drank a sip or two or the sedated alcohol, they woke up when you tried to move them back into the mansion and into their beds. They had gotten quite squirmy, kicking you in the shins as you tried to lead them back home, and Velvet had even left a few scratch marks on your arm.

You didn't mind, though, because their own alcohol sensitivity had caught up with them, and they barely remembered anything that had occurred after they started to dance. That was the best gift you could have asked for. It allowed you to easily fabricate a believable lie, in which they had gotten too tired after dancing and had passed out of exhaustion. Gullible as ever, the siblings easily ingested the fib and internalized it as the truth.

Any guilt you felt was just residual panic from the night. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.

Finishing up their coffees, you carefully measured out the specific amount of creamer they wanted. Surprisingly, their tongues were very sensitive to any slight shift in taste - you'd been yelled at countless times for trying to just eyeball it.