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verridaiya

May 27, 2025

leighsartworks216

Fistfight

Sylus x gn!Reader / Sylus & gn!Reader

IT'S FINALLY FINISHED AHHH I'm so glad I was finally able to get this goddamn idea out of my head

Can be read as romantic, platonic, or familial (ie. Sylus adopting another young bird for his flock lol)

Title from "Fistfight" by The Ballroom Thieves

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst, blood, injury, injured animal, guns, abusive parent, slow burn, potentially confusing pov, shapeshifting, literal sleeping together

Word Count: 4,381

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third - Fourth LADs Masterlists

AO3

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Sylus stops at the mouth of the alley. He stares into the heavy darkness, listening. He thought he heard someone swearing under their breath. If it’s another one of the bastards that tried to gang up on him just minutes ago, he’s going to be pissed.

With an outstretched hand, tendrils of his Evol dive into the depths of the abyss, shoving past and under dumpsters and discarded boxes to find the source of the sound. A yowl screams out with the distinct sound of cans being knocked over. They wrap around the source and draw it out into the orange lamplight.

A cat wriggles and hisses as it tries to futilely claw out of his Evol’s grasp. He hmphs. Of course, it makes sense for a cat to be out here. The N109 Zone is probably chock full of strays and-

He frowns and draws it closer. It tries swiping at his face, but he barely flinches back. The side of its body is stained in deep crimson. Fur matted down with blood. Fresh blood, too. It’s still dripping, landing on the sidewalk in persistent drips.

“Did you get into a fight?” He knows his question won’t receive an answer, but the cat does struggle less once he’s asked it. Perhaps it’s just growing weaker with blood loss.

He sighs. He can’t leave it here in the alley; it would be dead in the next few hours if he did. And clearly it won’t let him touch it, given the way it bares its fangs at him with a sharp hiss and a swipe of its claws.

He pulls off his coat and holds it open. The tendrils deposit the cat quickly within his arms, where he wraps it securely in the leather before it can squirm away. “You’ve still got spirit,” he hums, half-amused, as he continues on his way. “Hopefully you’ll live through the night.”

“Uh, Boss? What’cha got there?” Kieran trails just behind him, trying to peer around his arm to see the bundle wrapped up in them.

Luke is on his other side, doing just the same. “Why is it moving like that?”

“It’s a cat.” The Twins look at each other. “Call a vet. Have them send over a doctor to look at it.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Luke says with a half-finger salute.

“And get some fish from the kitchen.”

“Right away, Boss,” Kieran mirrors his brother.

They break away from him to go about their tasks. He can hear their hushed conversation asking each other what they think happened. The cat manages to free a paw and claw at his hand. The scratch is deep enough to draw blood. It fades away into flecks of red and black a moment later. He sighs as he pulls open the door to his office. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

The door shuts, his hold loosens, and the cat is squirming out as fast as possible. It jumps wildly onto the couch, staining the dark leather with blood and whatever god awful garbage stuck to its paws from that alleyway.

Now that he’s back home, he can see its injuries much better. It seems like there’s a hole in its side, too large and too perfectly round to be from an animal’s tooth or claws. Sylus frowns deeper. Did this cat get shot? Was it a poor attempt at pest control? Humans have been known to have a poor track record with strays and ferals, and the residents of the N109 Zone aren’t known to hesitate to remove what annoys them.

There’s a knock at the door behind him. The cat sits up straighter, like it’s ready to bolt the second it opens. He quirks a challenging brow at it. Who will win this fight, he wonders.

He turns the knob without looking away. The door opens up enough for someone to slip inside. He turns to address Kieran, and the cat makes a break for it.

It collides into a wall of smoke.

“Here’s the fish, Boss. Vet’s on their way.”

He pays no attention to the yowling and hissing of the cat as he examines the container in his hand. It’s certainly a bit fancy for a stray. Hopefully it’ll be enough to calm it down.

The door closes with a hum of dismissal. The wall vanishes, leaving only a worn-out cat and a scratched up rug behind. It looks up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Hungry?” He hooks a finger around the pull tab and removes the lid on the can. Immediately, the overbearing scent of fish fills the room. He sets it down a foot or so away from the cat, steps back, and watches.

It continues to stare at him for a minute. It’s almost unsettling. Like there’s something more behind its eyes that he’s not privy to.

Soon enough, though, the hunger must be too much for the little thing. It slowly stands up. He watches it carefully as it limps over to the fish. Its back leg doesn’t appear to be damaged; maybe it just hurts to move too much with how close it is to the hole in its side. The cat lowers itself down on its stomach, shoulders hunched, prepared to run at any given moment, and gives the can a distrusting sniff.

The first bite feels like a major success. If it can fight and it can eat, maybe it really can pull through this.

The cat glares at him from across the room. Its tail flicks angrily from side to side. And there is no way in hell he can take it seriously.

If the cone around its neck didn’t remove any and all intimidation, its shaved fur certainly did.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat look so pissed!” Luke cackles. He’s sitting on the floor. For the last few days, he’s been trying to “be one with the cat” in order to get close enough to pet it. He’s got bandages all over his hands to show for it.

“Do you think it knows it would’ve died without that surgery?” Kieran asks. He’s sitting on the couch behind his brother, arms crossed. Of all three of them, the cat seems to like him the best. Though, the bar really is in hell.

Sylus shakes his head. “Do you think it would be so angry if it did?”

“Hmm, good point.”

“Oh!” Luke suddenly jumps up, startling the cat, and runs over to a bag by the door. “I almost forgot I got these! There’s gotta be something in here it likes.”

He hauls the bag over and drops it onto the nice mahogany desk of their leader. Sylus doesn’t say anything, merely watches as Luke pulls out various items. Two kinds of brushes, little catnip mice toys, feathers dangling from a stick, at least three kinds of treats-

Kieran laughs. “When did you get all of this stuff?” He’s suddenly by Luke’s side, picking up one of the dangle toys and bouncing it in front of Mephisto, resting on his perch nearby. The crow squawks indignantly.

Luke shrugs with a proud expression. “I have my ways. Here, let’s try these!” He grabs one of the treat bags and tears it open. He returns to his place on the floor. The cat stares up at him with interest. “Want this?”

Its tail slows down slightly, a smidge less irritated than before. Luke nearly squeals with excitement when it leans forward to smell the morsel in his hand.

A sharp ringtone startles it. It backs away, tucking itself into the corner of its makeshift bed made out of spare blankets far too expensive for a cat to be laying on like it does.

Sylus lifts his phone to his ear. “Speak.”

The Twins both turn to watch. He listens silently to the man on the other end. It seems the boss of the men who ambushed him the other night is trying to cover his ass, offering up apologies and ‘I had no idea’s and ‘How can I make it up to you?’s. He hums noncommittally into the receiver as he stands up and heads for the door. He nods to the Twins, a silent message for them to follow. The crow flies and lands on his shoulder as he leaves. Luke sets the treat down on the carpet. Kieran nudges him. The door shuts behind them.

The cat stares at the door for a minute longer. It listens carefully to the footsteps of its captors. Once it can’t hear them anymore, it waits a few more minutes…

Fucking finally.

Sylus's steps slow to a stop just inside the room. The cone lay abandoned on the couch. All the furniture and rugs are destroyed, clawed up and torn apart. The culprit is sitting on the desk. It stares at him blankly.

The door closes with a click. He walks over to the couch, leaning over the back to pick up the abandoned cone. He turns it over. There's no scratches, no bite marks, and the cord that holds it shut has been tied with a different knot than the vet used.

He looks back over at the cat. Its tail twitches anxiously beside it.

Trouble. Just like he suspected. Though, not quite like this.

"As long as you aren't licking at your stitches," he concedes. He steps over to the desk and drops the cone on top, near the cat. "Hm. You need more pain medication, don't you?"

"Mreow."

"Oh, so you do know how to speak nicely." He rounds the desk. The cat turns to face him the whole time. At least it doesn't try to scratch him as he opens the top drawer and pulls out an orange bottle. He struggles momentarily to get just one of the small pills, resorting to dumping some into the cap just to make it easier on himself, and holds it out to the cat. It hesitantly leans out to sniff it. "Don't most animals like to have their meds hidden?"

It makes a little sound, as though trying to chastise him for his misconception. He holds the pill patiently. Waits with all the patience of someone willing to let the world disintegrate around them. He almost holds his breath when it takes the pill from his fingers and retreats to eat it safely.

Progress. Good progress, for how short the cat's been here. Eating out of his hand is a good sign, for how odd the rest of its behavior is.

"Ah, shit, wait!"

The cat runs down the hall. Two sets of footsteps chase after it, hissing pleas for it to come back and be a good kitty. They cartoonishly skid to a stop when it runs through another open door.

Luke turns slowly to Kieran. Both of them are horrified for what comes next.

After a quick round of rock, paper, scissors, Kieran is the one forced to crack open the door further.

Sylus is sitting up on his bed, back against the headboard. His eyes are closed, chest rising and falling in a normal pattern. Fast asleep. A frown is set deep on his face.

Kieran looks around the room. It's huge, has a lot of hiding spots, and seems to be completely devoid of the cat. Did it slip by somehow? Did it actually go into a different room? He glances at Mephisto, who seems far too busy preening its faux feathers to care about his plight.

Fearing the consequences of lingering any longer, Kieran slowly backs away and closes the door as quietly as possible. He shrugs at his brother. Luke is just as confused as he is, gesturing in a silent conversation.

Deciding they were both somehow, somehow tricked, they continue their hunt further down the hall…

The cat pokes its head out from behind its cover. Honestly, it didn't mean to get trapped in here. It was just trying to lose the two goons on its tail.

The presence on the bed doesn't do a lot to put it at ease. The man confuses it with his callousness. One minute, he's manhandling it with his Evol, and the next he's giving it food and making sure its wounds are taken care of. It's not that he's mean, as far as the cat can tell. He's nice to those guys, anyway, humoring their weird little ideas and eccentricities.

Mephisto hops down beside it. The cat's back curls, fur all standing on end as it hisses at the metal bird. He seems just as unfazed by the warning as the man is.

"Leave it."

The command startles the cat, putting it on higher alert as it whips around to hiss at the man. He pays it no mind. Mephisto caws irritatedly as he flies back up to his perch.

“You aren’t supposed to be running around.” Sylus glances at the cat. "Do you want to leave?" he asks in a low murmur, words slurred slightly with sleep. He waits for a response. Waits for any sort of tell that would let him know to open the door for the cat. But nothing comes.

The cat's fur is still standing up as it cautiously makes its way over. It stops at the side of the bed, adjusting its body as it gauges the distance it needs to jump to make it onto the thick mattress. Sylus chuckles tiredly. "You can't jump that, kitten. Want some help?"

It puts its paw on the overhanging bedding, standing on its back legs. Then, it meets his eyes. "Mreoww."

He waves his hand. Red and black Evol lift the cat onto the bed before fading. It's a little unsteady on the softer surface, but it catches its balance soon enough. It takes a single step away from the edge, then lays down.

He hums, but he doesn't say anything more. If the cat wants to stay there for the rest of the day, so be it. The Twins won't come looking for it again in here, and Mephisto isn't going to snitch to them of all people.

He shuts his eyes again, ignores the cat staring at him, and falls asleep.

Slowly, the cat's fur smoothes down. It allows itself to curl up into a more comfortable position. It keeps an eye on him until it can't anymore, as sleep claims it, too.

Every day for the next couple weeks, this continued.

For the first few days, Sylus would head off to bed, leaving the door cracked open behind him. The cat would come in a while later. If he was awake, he'd use his Evol to lift it up. If he wasn't, well, it meowed persistently until he was.

Sylus soon set up a pet stair beside the bed. This way, it could climb up without having to wake him. With that, it also began following him in right as he went to bed. He'd been pleasantly surprised the first time, when he opened the door and it slipped in quickly through his legs, ran up the stairs and stared at him. When he woke up at sundown, he noticed that it was just a couple inches closer than before.

Every few days, it shifted closer and closer, until it was within arm's reach. Though, he never tried reaching out to pet it. It was clear by their interactions at night that it was not ready for that sort of attention, no matter how desperately Luke tried to just pat its head once. Like a silent agreement, he would offer it protection in the day while they both slept and leave it to its own devices at night.

“Cat seems to be feeling a lot better, huh?” Kieran follows the feline around the room as it wanders gracefully along shelf after shelf of lethal weapons.

“Shouldn’t we get it down from there?” Luke wonders. His phone is lifted, taking photos of the cat, just as he’d been doing for all the time it’s been living in the base.

Sylus looks up to watch with them, the gun in his own hand going ignored.

The cat walks slowly. Its focus is solely on the guns on display, observing each one like it’s a museum. He watches as it comes to a stop in front of one - one he himself altered and upgraded. It stares. Paws lightly at it. It’s not loaded, there’s no danger, but there is an intense interest he’s never seen a cat have before. Like it’s thinking, trying to work something out with knowledge it shouldn’t have.

A camera shutter startles it from its focus. It turns its head toward the Twins and meows annoyedly at them.

Sylus shakes his head. “Leave it be. Start gathering product for our client.”

Luke slips his phone into his pocket with a half-salute. Both of them look a moment longer at the cat, staring down at them with a twitching tail, before getting back to work. They pack enhanced rifles into a sturdy case, fitting them into foam cutouts in layers. Big metal clasps hold the case shut. Each rifle glows dimly with protocore energy. Mostly red, some blue, a couple yellow. Sylus looks over one, turning it over in his hands, checking the quality. From the corner of his eye, the cat keeps watch, tail flicking back and forth all the while.

“I’m so sorry again for my men’s ambush, Mr. Qin.” The man bows solemnly, hands rubbing together. He’s shorter than Sylus, but he’s bulky, with thick arms and a barrel chest. His smile is disarming. Eyes too bright and kind. When he straightens out again, he’s rubbing his wrist, as though realigning the joint. “My child ran away, you see. I sent them out looking for them, but they saw you and decided not to waste the opportunity.”

Sylus quirks an eyebrow. “Did you men have a reason to try taking my life?”

The man laughs, quite undisturbed by the question. “To prove their capabilities, no doubt. You are quite famous for your strength, after all, and those young men did not understand the consequences to come from failing. To be sure, in their minds, they must have believed themselves so capable as to not fail.”

“Must have.”

With a nod, one of his henchmen steps forward with a bulky case. He deposits it in front of the Onychinus leader, clicking it open where it rests on his desk. Stacks of protocores, gleaming in a rainbow of colors, fill the case to the brim. They aren’t run of the mill either; a case of this size with this many authentically powerful crystals would take the Hunter’s Association years to amass. Yet here they are, for the taking.

“You should know these are worth more than the weapons you requested.”

“But of course! Consider it a gift of good will, and a hope for future business between our groups.”

There’s a scratch at the door. Soft, yet recognizable to Sylus, who flicks a finger and opens the door a crack. Just as always, the cat squeezes through. But this time, it pauses when it sees Sylus’s client. When he looks at the client, he looks just as caught as the cat.

The air becomes tense and stifling. No sound to be heard as the cat moves silently and quickly across the floor. The man and his lackeys watch, wide-eyed, as the cat leaps up into Sylus’s lap. It’s the first time it’s ever found a place there. For all these weeks, it has always kept a careful distance from everyone, even the Twins and their persistent desire to pet it. Now, out of nowhere, it chooses to cross that boundary it set entirely?

It lays down, front paws tucked under itself, large eyes with slit-pupils staring at the man on the other side of the desk.

The man’s jaw tightens. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. He’s on a thin wire; Sylus can feel the rage beginning to leak off of his being. Even without looking into his soul, he can see the truth behind that easy-going mask he wears; the blackened heart rotting inside. When he finally looks back up at Sylus, he forces a strained grin and chokes out a sharp laugh without mirth.

“Mr. Qin, I believe you said you had no involvement in my child’s disappearance.”

Sylus’s brow furrows, an intimidating warning. “I stand by that.”

The man’s cheek twitches. “You do? Ha!” His hands fall to his sides, hands clenched in tight fists. “Then the little fuck has been pulling you along like a fool. Hiding away as a cat this whole fucking time, haven’t you?”

He feels the cat tense in his lap. It sits stock-still. Even its tail is stiff. Like one small move would pull the pin to set everything off. He doesn’t even notice himself sitting up straighter in return. Doesn’t realize he’s as tense until his finger begins tapping at the arm of his chair, ready for what could happen next.

“Tell you what, Mr. Qin. Hand them over and I’ll send over three more boxes just like that,” he offers through grit teeth, nodding to the case on his desk.

“I think if they’d wanted to go with you, they’d have done so already,” he rebuts. “Considering they could have run back home weeks ago, it seems to me their choice is already clear.”

His jaw shifts. Teeth grinding, smile starting to sour into an ugly grimace. “Mr. Qin-”

“The deal’s off,” Sylus interrupts sharply. The man blinks, wide-eyed in shock. “If you refuse to respect my guests in my own home-”

“THEY’RE MY CHILD!” he roars.

“In my home.” He gestures. Luke and Kieran step out from behind him, grabbing the cases of guns and settling them behind his chair, safely out of reach. He tilts his head. Shadows cast over his eyes until they’re embers in the dark. “Why would you send trigger-happy men to retrieve them?”

The man is silent. Fuming. Steam would be pouring from his ears if it could. His fists shake by his side with force, aching to hurt something - someone.

A large, protective hand rests gently over the cat’s back. Barely even touching.

“Get out.”

The man stays still. His guards stand rigid.

Sylus tsks. Red and black tendrils of mist erupt from his hand. They shoot out, grabbing hold of the man and his guards, contorting their legs and arms and bodies like dolls. Sickening cracks, gut-wrenching screams. Their bodies puppeteered out the door, down the hall.

He uncovers the cat. “Make sure they leave without a fuss,” he commands, nodding at the case on the desk. “Take that with you.”

The Twins shut and lock the case back up, whispering questions to themselves as they glance back on their way out. They don’t fully understand what happened. To them, it just sounds like this guy was a crazy pet-dad whose cat got out.

The cat slowly stands from his lap. He watches as it hops on top of his desk, turning back around to face him as it sits. Its tail still shifts anxiously. Paws shift nervously against the wood, as though it’s trying to knead it.

Sylus’s lips quirk into a slight smirk. “Jig’s up, kitten.”

It looks away from him. Fur begins to recede and shift. Limbs elongate and the body sits upright. In a matter of seconds, where once a cat sat, sits a person. You rub your arm, still looking away. He shifts to uncross his legs and you flinch. He slowly finishes the action with a sigh. All of your attitude, your defiance, locked away from the presence of your father alone. He can only imagine how such cruelty against you began. Every scenario makes him wish he’d done worse when “escorting” him out.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises.

You glance at him. “I used you.”

He nods. “I knew something was strange weeks ago,” he admits. You look at him wide-eyed and he chuckles. “Ever since your cone was removed and I gave you medicine. You removed it yourself, didn’t you?”

“... It was uncomfortable.”

He grins, but continues with an edge of softness, “You used me for your own protection. And given what I just witnessed, I’d say it was well justified.”

You let out a soft breath. Your shoulders relax slightly, adjusting to his kindness. It was nothing you didn’t already witness in your time here, with you in your cat form and the two kids he keeps around, but it’s still quite foreign. “I would have left sooner, but then you kept getting phone calls from my dad. I was scared he’d still be looking for me, so I stayed… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to.” He glances at the time. When he stands, he moves carefully, but you don’t flinch away. He holds out a hand, an offering. “I’d imagine you’re getting tired of eating cat food every day. I’ll have my chef prepare something for you. Anything you’d like.”

You look down at his open palm. Then up at his face. There’s nothing guarded or threatening, outside of his height and aura. And the promise of real food - your stomach growls at the thought alone.

You put your hand in his. His touch is soft and gentle. He helps you down from his desk and leads you out of the room, down familiar halls. “What about after?” you ask uncertainly.

He shrugs a shoulder, like he’d already thought of every outcome before you even thought of the question. “That’s up to you, kitten. You’re welcome to stay here, or you can leave. Either way, I’ll make sure you remain protected.”

It’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. Freedom and protection rolled into one. You’re no longer confined to your home, in fear for your very life. You can go anywhere, do anything, and know, no matter how far, you’ll be safe. You hold on tighter to his hand, catching up to walk directly by his side. “Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my name.”

He smiles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

That night, a familiar cat curls up tightly in his lap, fast asleep and purring loudly.

---

Tag List:

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