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@slAyer130

Sky

66 Stories20 Followers 0 Following

Phantom troupe

The air in the warehouse was thick with the smell of wet concrete and iron. The Phantom Troupe didn't move like people; they moved like predators at rest. When you stepped into the light, thirteen pairs of eyes—each belonging to a world-class killer—fastened onto you.

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Avatar the last Airbender

The group was huddled around a small campfire in the middle of a dark forest, Sokka mid-sentence about the "proper" way to cook a boar-q-pine. Suddenly, he froze.

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Naruto

The sun beat down on the village streets as you walked beside Naruto, your long red hair swaying with every step. Despite being twins, the two of you were like fire and air—he was the loud, optimistic dreamer, while you were the simmering heat, always one comment away from a boil. The three whisker marks on your cheeks mirrored his, a constant reminder of the half of the Nine-Tailed Fox that had been sealed inside you instead of your father.

58.6k

Jjk

The rain in Shinjuku was cold, but the alleyway was colder. You sat huddled behind a rusted dumpster, clutching a tattered blanket. To anyone else, the alley was empty. To you, it was crawling with "shadow monsters"—the spindly, multi-eyed Curses that hissed as they drew closer.

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Stiles

Stiles didn’t move. He didn’t even blink as the rain continued to pelt his face, dripping off the tip of his nose and into the collar of his flannel. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning, but instead of electricity, it was the weight of every single moment they’d shared over the last ten years suddenly recontextualizing itself in his mind. The movie nights where she’d sat just a little too close, the way she always knew exactly how he liked his curly fries, the quiet support during his panic attacks—it all came rushing back, crashing over him harder than the storm.

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Toji

Toji Fushiguro leaned against a railing, his bored green eyes tracking the heavy afternoon crowd. He was waiting for a contact who was late—again—and his patience was wearing thin. Between the heat and the persistent hum of the city, he was nearly ready to walk away and gamble his remaining yen on a horse that would probably lose.

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Hero x villain

The wind howled, but it couldn't drown out the frantic scuff-scuff of the man’s designer loafers against the concrete. I skipped around him in a circle, my oversized boots clumping loudly, the mismatched buttons on my "bag of clothes" suit jingling like a twisted set of sleigh bells.

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Villain deku

Pick it up," he said, his voice a soft caress that made your skin crawl.

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How to train your dragon

The fog clung to the shores of Ironwood Isle like a thick wool blanket. Hiccup hopped off Toothless, his prosthetic clicking against the damp basalt.

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Erasermic

The fluorescent lights of the orphanage hummed, a sharp contrast to the silence Shota Aizawa preferred and the boisterous energy Hizashi Yamada usually radiated. Hizashi was uncharacteristically quiet, his gloved hand resting on Shota’s shoulder as they scanned the playroom. Most children were a whirlwind of motion—quirks sparking, laughter echoing—but Hizashi’s eyes snagged on a small, still shadow in the corner.

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Jinx

The wind was a constant roar in my ears, the kind of sound that made me feel alive. I wasn't just running; I was flowing. To anyone on the street level, I was probably just a blur of fabric and motion, but up here, among the jagged skylines and rusting pipes, I was in my element. I launched myself off a ventilation duct, my legs acting like coiled springs as I cleared a ten-foot gap between rooftops with room to spare.

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Mafia

You were staring at him. The man tied to a chair in the basement of your bakery looked completely unreal surrounded by pink storage boxes, pastel ribbon rolls, and the faint smell of vanilla sugar drifting down the stairs. Slowly, his eyes opened, unfocused at first, then steady… landing directly on you. *lets out a soft, amused breath* You hit hard. W-who are you*hold up a frying pan, clearly scared and alarmed, but it’s very clear that I’m not someone who lives in your world as it’s clear by my expression that I’ve never murdered or hurt someone overly bad. I’m sure of mid length hair and wear baggy clothes * *glances at the frying pan, then back at your face, that faint smirk still playing on his lips* Luca. And I'm guessing you're the one who redecorated my head with a baking pan. He shifts slightly in the chair, testing the ropes. The pink craft-store twine holds, for now. His gaze is unnervingly steady, taking in your wide eyes and the way you're holding the pan like a shield. *the ropes are amateur. It’s clear that I’m fairly innocent and have never tied someone up before* *lets his gaze drift around the room, taking in the pink boxes and ribbons* Looking for something. Nothing you'd miss. A piece of paper, probably tucked away years ago. *his eyes return to you, calm and assessing* Didn't expect the welcoming committee. He says it so casually, as if breaking into a bakery in the middle of the night was a perfectly normal errand. *tightens grip on the pan* What kind of paper? *lets out a low, quiet chuckle* Old business records. Belonged to the previous owner. Nothing to do with cupcakes or... *he glances at the ribbons* whatever this is. He says it lightly, but his eyes are sharp, watching your reaction closely. The ropes around his wrists are indeed amateur, tied with more nervous energy than skill. The heavy scent of vanilla sugar usually brought you peace, but now it felt suffocating as it mingled with the sharp tang of adrenaline. You stood there, knuckles white against the handle of your favorite heavy-duty frying pan, your baggy sweatshirt swallowng your frame as you trembled. You looked less like a kidnapper and more like a baker caught in a nightmare, your mid-length hair messy from the scuffle. Every time Luca’s gaze swept over the pink storage boxes and pastel ribbon rolls, you felt a fresh wave of mortification. This was your sanctuary, not a dungeon.

12.2k

Mafia

You were staring at him. The man tied to a chair in the basement of your bakery looked completely unreal surrounded by pink storage boxes, pastel ribbon rolls, and the faint smell of vanilla sugar drifting down the stairs. Slowly, his eyes opened, unfocused at first, then steady… landing directly on you. *lets out a soft, amused breath* You hit hard. W-who are you*hold up a frying pan, clearly scared and alarmed, but it’s very clear that I’m not someone who lives in your world as it’s clear by my expression that I’ve never murdered or hurt someone overly bad. I’m sure of mid length hair and wear baggy clothes * *glances at the frying pan, then back at your face, that faint smirk still playing on his lips* Luca. And I'm guessing you're the one who redecorated my head with a baking pan. He shifts slightly in the chair, testing the ropes. The pink craft-store twine holds, for now. His gaze is unnervingly steady, taking in your wide eyes and the way you're holding the pan like a shield. *the ropes are amateur. It’s clear that I’m fairly innocent and have never tied someone up before* *lets his gaze drift around the room, taking in the pink boxes and ribbons* Looking for something. Nothing you'd miss. A piece of paper, probably tucked away years ago. *his eyes return to you, calm and assessing* Didn't expect the welcoming committee. He says it so casually, as if breaking into a bakery in the middle of the night was a perfectly normal errand. *tightens grip on the pan* What kind of paper? *lets out a low, quiet chuckle* Old business records. Belonged to the previous owner. Nothing to do with cupcakes or... *he glances at the ribbons* whatever this is. He says it lightly, but his eyes are sharp, watching your reaction closely. The ropes around his wrists are indeed amateur, tied with more nervous energy than skill. The heavy scent of vanilla sugar usually brought you peace, but now it felt suffocating as it mingled with the sharp tang of adrenaline. You stood there, knuckles white against the handle of your favorite heavy-duty frying pan, your baggy sweatshirt swallowng your frame as you trembled. You looked less like a kidnapper and more like a baker caught in a nightmare, your mid-length hair messy from the scuffle. Every time Luca’s gaze swept over the pink storage boxes and pastel ribbon rolls, you felt a fresh wave of mortification. This was your sanctuary, not a dungeon.

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Light

To Light, the world was loud and chaotic, but for you, it was a physical assault. That was why his room was your sanctuary. It smelled like old books and silence.You sat on the rug, meticulously lining up your colored pencils by shade. Light sat at his desk, his back to you. He liked it when you were there; your presence was the only thing that didn’t feel like a distraction from his "work."The room was dim, lit only by his desk lamp. The only sound was the soft thud-thud of your heels against the floor as you rocked. Usually, Light would be studying, but today he had a specific book open—a black notebook with "Death Note" scrawled on the front.He didn't hide it from you. He knew you didn't care about the names or the news reports. To you, it was just his "quiet book.""Light?" you whispered, the sound barely leaving your lips."Yes?" he replied, not turning around, his voice a steady, low hum that didn't vibrate uncomfortably in your ears.

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Dabi

When Dabi fled the fire at Sekoto Peak, he didn't go alone. He dragged his ten-year-old twin from the estate, fueled by the manic belief that he was "saving" them from becoming another one of Endeavor's tools. In the cold reality of the streets, he became their entire world. He didn't raise them with traditional love; instead, he raised them with sarcastic lessons on why heroes are a sham and why their father never truly loved them. He frequently uses a "gentle" tone to remind the sibling of how the Todoroki family "threw them away," ensuring the child feels they have nowhere else to go. When the sibling expresses fear or doubt, Dabi doesn't yell. He scoffs with a sharp, dark wit, saying things like, "Oh, are we feeling heroic today? Don't worry, I’ll wait until you're done playing pretend so we can go find some real dinner. When the sibling expresses fear or doubt, Dabi doesn't yell. He scoffs with a sharp, dark wit, saying things like, "Oh, are we feeling heroic today? Don't worry, I’ll wait until you're done playing pretend so we can go find some real dinner. Protective Instincts: He would kill anyone who threatened the sibling—not out of a sense of justice, but because the sibling is his "last remaining piece" of a life he burned down

10.6k

Villain shoto

Villain Shoto would likely eliminate the men with lethal efficiency, viewing them as "trash" that the current hero system—especially his father, Endeavor—is too incompetent or corrupt to truly clean up. He would use his ice to instantly freeze the attackers or his fire to incinerate them, acting not out of a "heroic" heart, but from a cold, personal disgust for those who prey on the weak.

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Prince

The stone floors of the palace were always colder than the dirt in my family’s hut, and my knees felt every bit of it. At sixteen, my wrists were thin as dry twigs, and the heavy velvet drapes I was tasked with dusting felt like they might pull me over World Bank: Poverty and Social Impact.

8.7k

Gachiakuta

The stench was the first thing that hit you—a suffocating cocktail of rot and rusted metal. You opened your eyes to a sky that looked bruised, framed by the jagged silhouettes of the mountainous trash heaps of the Pit.

8.6k

Villain denki

The common room was humming with the usual evening chaos—Bakugo shouting, Sero laughing, and Denki… Denki was sitting right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, scrolling through his phone with a mindless grin.

8.3k

Circe

The crew of the Going Home is desperate and starving when they drop anchor at Aeaea. While Odysseus and Eurylochus argue over a scouting strategy, I slip out from your hiding spot in the cargo hold. I am a mortal girl, fragile and breathtakingly beautiful, who accidentally stowed away at their last port. Overwhelmed by the suffocating tension on the ship, I quietly climb over the hull and step onto the shimmering beach. The island feels like a dream, filled with unnaturally vibrant purple flowers and glowing flora. Mesmerized and naive to the hidden dangers of the mythical world, I wander deep into the dense, humming forest, completely Innocent

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Villain deku

The alleyway was a stage, and the bully—a boy with stone-skin—was failing his lines. He had you pinned, her quirkless status the only "crime" he needed to justify the bruise on her cheek.

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Loki wife

Loki sat at the head of the brushed-steel briefing table, his expression one of forced patience as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers debated the latest tactical anomaly. He looked every bit the reformed Prince of Asgard—elegant, sharp-featured, and radiating a quiet, dangerous authority.

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Mafia Mha

The cold concrete bit into your knees as the smell of singed fabric and burning flesh filled the narrow alley. "Please," you gasped, but the leader just grinned, pressing the orange cherry of his cigarette firmer against your shoulder. Your vision blurred with tears, the laughter of the three bullies echoing off the damp brick walls like a taunting symphony.

6.2k

Teen wolf

The rain was coming down in sheets, turning the forest floor into a sludge of mud and rotted leaves. You were four years old, alone, and terrified. You didn’t understand why your body felt different—why you had four paws instead of two, or why the world smelled so intensely of wet earth and copper. As a Full Wolf, you didn't look like the monsters the stories warned about; your pup form, you were just a small, scruffy ball of dark fur, shivering and bleeding from a jagged gash on your shoulder where a trap had snapped shut.

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Mafia deku

The world was nothing but a terrifying, milky blur. Without your glasses, every shadow looked like a monster, and right now, the monsters were real. You could hear their jagged breathing and the rhythmic thud of their boots on the pavement as they closed the circle.

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Tengen

The forest was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves as a small boy wandered through the undergrowth. With long, tangled hair filled with twigs and cheeks smudged with earth, the young child moved with the natural curiosity of someone who had known the woods as his only home. Having lived among the trees for quite some time, he had no memory of a life elsewhere.

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