A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy
(Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)
To Remain Silent
Sylus x Reader 🩸
Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...
Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)
Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭
| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
Sylus knows this isn’t real.
You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.
“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”
You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”
He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”
“I don’t think you are.”
The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.
Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”
You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.
With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.
“Hi,” he teases.
You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”
“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”
“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”
It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.
“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”
You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”
A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.
“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.
Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”
He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”
You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.
Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”
He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”
“Sylus,” you scold.
Red eyes widen a fraction.
You see it.
Good.
…
Sylus thinks this might be real.
You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.
Sylus. You said: Sylus.
It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.
Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.
The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”
Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.
You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.
He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.
Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.
His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.
Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.
Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”
“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.
Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”
“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”
“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long.
Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”
He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.
You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”
“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”
He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:
“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”
“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”
“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”
He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:
“You don’t have it in you.”
Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.
There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.
Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.
“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”
“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.
“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.
“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”
Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you—” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”
“What?”
“How you cheat at kitty cards.”
Oh. Oh.
You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?
Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”
Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.
“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.
There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”
“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”
“Practice?”
“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”
He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.
“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.
His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”
…
Sylus knows this is real.
His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be?
He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment:
“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”
Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back.
And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.
“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”
She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere.
His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.
He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:
Relief.
“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.”
“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.
You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”
Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that?
Besides, that’s his job.
“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back.
“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.
Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?
Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant.
The world can wait; he wants to punish you first.
“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”
The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”
“Ok,” he breathes against you.
Later. There’ll be a later.
Won’t there?
125 notes
·
View notes
ᡴꪫ ⋆ INSTAGRAM UPDATE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── 240925: Blue
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ luna's instagram
Liked by jeonghaniyoo_n, min9yu_k, feat.dino, and 4,734,383 others
lunabae something blue 🩵
View all comments
babyjijiyeon MRS. YOON!!! HOW UNSERIOUS COULD YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING GET?!?
svtrighthere_ SHE IS ABSOLUTELY SICK IN THE HEAD 🙃
lulunana BSKSHUSHEHAH she cracks me up fr 😂
lunadaily she really just posted this literally MINUTES after we got that fucking confirmation!?!
esther17 FIVE LONG MOTHERFUCKING YEARS! THAT’S HOW LONG YA’LL BEEN TOGETHER?! AND YA’LL ENGANGED TOO!!? I SIMPLY CANNOT WITH THE TWO OF YOU!!!
nana_lulu17 they have managed to break the internet in the span of a few hours and both decided to post on Instagram as if they didn’t… that’s it couple behavior right there.
ddaddu just a few simple questions… FIVE YEARS?! ENGAGED SINCE FUCKING BERLIN!?! AND IS JEONGHAN ALREADY BALD?!?
baebybaeby the caption too I–
ashhhh17 and with that, ladies and gentlemen, Bae Jiyeon became THE military wife 🤭
lunas-closet you look amazing, my love 💕✨
gyugyu_m mom is officially marrying dad 🥹💖
jeongnadaily JEONGNA NATION WE HAVE FUCKING WON!! THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST PIECE OF NEWS I HAVE EVER FUCKING GOTTEN 🎉🎉🎉🎉
napipopeta_ the face card, the body, the outfit… she’s proving to you haters what jeonghan gets on a daily basis 🥵
↳ user24705531 honestly don’t know who I am more jealous of 🙃
↳ moonlightbaby I want to be their third 🤭
xo_xokissme_ the song choice as well 🫠
lunanova09 she knows what’s she’s doing, i mean that caption! you’re getting married to THE Yoon Jeonghan, we get it you won 😭
popipopipopipo Hannie cannot handle all of that 🥵 (I’m totally jealous of him rn)
↳ mimi17 Yoon Jeonghan is the only one who can handle all of that.
jxjforever pledis said they got engaged Sept 8, that’s Berlin… everything makes sense!! them being so smiley during their performance, fans seeing them holding hands in Berlin, LUNA’S FUCKING CAPTION ON HER BERLIN POST!!?
↳ svtforeverfan “berlin you’ll always be my yes, you have my heart always and forevermore, now more than ever 💎🤍” WE HAVE BEEN PLAYED! SHE TOLD US!!
↳ wooowonwoo “always be my yes” IT WAS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF OUR EYES 😝
missbitch ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU AND HAN HAVE BEEN DATING FOR FIVE YEARS AND ARE RECENTLY ENGAGED BUT WE WON’T SEE YOU TWO TOGETHER FOR TWO FUCKING YEARS?!! I AM UNWELL.
sonogong17 can jeonghan fight?
↳ shadowmyshadow like a fist fight? No. He might poison you in your sleep and get away with it tho.
↳ hanniehaeee02 ^^^ this is so Yoon Jeonghan coded. Literally something he is capable of doing 🤣
ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!
: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ
Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea
130 notes
·
View notes