Dark SBI & Fluffy Oneshots

The Strike of Silence

A/N

Yoooo new dark sbi fic!! Im back from the neverending writers block who cheered

Tws are a thing again, so please read with caution, as this is dark sbi and not happy wholesome non-problematic relationships :D hope you enjoy the fic!

TWs: temporary character death, possessive relationships, mind control

Synopsis: Fallen Angel wilbur wants angel tommy to join them in the underworld. By any means necessary

this is entirely unedited btw so sorry if its bad lmfao

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The rain splatters on the street used to be nothing.

Just small puddles amidst deeply-worn pavementl. The occasional dip and crack running along the aged concrete, deep enough to hold small droplets as snuggly as a forest leaf. The moon overhead reflected deep silver hues into the miniature ponds, painting it in such an unnatural color that it appeared almost otherworldly amidst a street of overgrown vines and destroyed walls.

But, in a world so big, in a place so full of sounds and life, the puddles were nothing. The occasional annoyance from damp shoe soles, but nothing else.

It wasn't until Tommy was running that their importance made it itself known.

His sneaker-covered foot splashes painfully loudly as he hopped over puddles, small presses of uneven rock digging through the rubber to scrape against his heel. Amidst the dead silence of night–where the streets were empty other than the exhausted night workers–the splash of water felt deafening. It was louder than his rough pants; louder than the pounding of his heart that he could somehow feel in his throat; and, most importantly, loud enough to pinpoint his exact location.

Loud enough to be his downfall.

Tommy swallowed, desperately gulping in air as he turned a corner, latching onto the wall to prevent himself from slipping. He pushed forward even as his legs burned and his muscles felt like they were near tearing, arms aching from the quick back-and-forth motion of running. Another puddle splashes. More water rose in the air with his every step; more signs that felt like a helicopter light shining over his running form.

But he couldn't stop. Stopping meant losing. Losing meant death.

Death meant meeting the Fallen Angel again.

And after the last time– after he'd been brought back from the dead–he knew he couldn't afford to let that happen again.

But the footsteps nearing his shaking form gave him little hope. They were quick and rapid–much faster than his own–but never got closer than a foot. It was almost as though the creature chasing him was waiting for him to run out of energy, if only to strike fear deep in his soul.

It was hopeless.

He was going to die again.

He couldn't let himself die again.

"Little Theseus," the creature's voice cooed with a jittery laugh. It was disembodied, for Tommy couldn't spare the energy to glance back. Even as he ran faster and faster, passing through alleyways so quickly they were a maze of blurs and trash piles, his pittering heart and choked breaths couldn't drown out the taunting words.

"Come b-a-ack."

It sounded like a lullaby, the way the vowels slipped perfectly from the creature's tongue. Like a warm hug encasing him, deep claws digging deep, deep into his heart, and ripping it out before he could even realize what was happening.