Dark SBI & Fluffy Oneshots

Carry On, Fighter

A/N

new fic :D ignore how its been a week

In the middle of writing the ending of this I found out my best friend all the way back from like, 3rd-4th grade, was kidnapped. I dont know why it packed a punch since that was so long ago since I've seen her but I decided i needed some fluff to cope so....yeah. Hopefully shes okay but I'll likely never know

Anyways, the trigger warnings for this one are just my typical violence but then pure crimebois hurt/comfort fluff. Enjoy <3

Synopsis: Fighter Tommy, who is forced to fight in a Gladiator pit, loses a match. Luckily, Wilbur is there to help him heal.

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"Come on now, Tommy," his opponent taunted, the reaper in his hand glimmering with blood and the remaints of deep purple magic, the substance dripping off it and mixing with the sand floor. "You can do better than that."

Tommy grit his teeth, planting his foot behind him as he struggled not to fall. The light above them reflected off the dark mask his competition wore, almost blinding him with each tilt of his head. Already, the black was dotted with red, chips running across the paint, one small sliver broken off of the edge.

Though the dark material covered their face, Tommy could picture the pearly grin beneath.

He took in a shuddering breath, knuckles turning white from how tightly he gripped his sword, and charged.

Wind whistled through his ears with the lunge, sand kicking up behind him and joining the swing of his blade, aimed straight for his opponent's head. They laughed as they blocked it easily, flicking his sword to the side easily and sending a kick for Tommy's knee. He tried to dodge it, but the elder was far too quick, sending him falling to the ground with a yelp of pain. Fire burned through his leg, a small slice blooming on the skin, but he brushed it aside easily.

The glow of the reaper flickered in the corner of his eye.

Tommy barely had time to roll to the side before it came swinging for his neck.

The blade hit the sand with a small thump , landing so close to his ear that he could hear the whistle of wind. Tommy immediately scrammbled to stand up, his feet slipping on the smooth terrain below them. A plume of sand flew up to flicker in his eyes, making him take a few sloppy steps back, the back of his hand swiping up to wipe the grime away as his other hand strugged to hold his sword steady. Sweat coated his palms and threatened to make his grip slip, all the while his opponent leared in psychotic glee.

"Come on, little fighter," they cheered in mock sympathy. "Get a few hits in, won't you? Let's not embarrass yourself too much."

The crowd around them roared at that, almost making Tommy drop his sword in a panic. He grit his teeth, tasting metal in his mouth.

Fuck. That was right. There were people watching them; lots of people. Enough to fill the entire colosseum around them.

Betting on him. Praying on his downfall so it could further fill their funds. Watching, judging, always observing and waiting for him to hit the ground.

"Fuck off," Tommy snarled, hands shaking. The tips of his hair were covered in sand and dirt, specks of blood dotting the blonde.

The man shrugged. "Only if you get a good slash in. Come on, I'm only asking you to make it look like I struggled a tiny bit."

There was another cheer from the crowd; a wave of nobles rising in their seats, betting tables already celebrating with a sip of wine and laugh with their finely-clothed friends. Tommy blinked back the stressed tears in his eyes, instead zeroing in on his opponent as they slowly lifted their blade from the ground, particles of sand falling from it in a mesmerizing wave like a waterfall.