Characters: Mihawk x reader, Sera, Zoro, Perona, Shanks
Vibe: chaotic family reunion, supernatural comedy, found family, cozy monster household, wholesome chaos
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
The atmosphere on Kuraigana shifted in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t the oppressive presence of angels, nor the cold shadow of a demon. Suddenly, the air grew heavy with the scent of the wild, of pine needles, and something that felt like a gathering storm in the heat of summer.
Mihawk, who had been refilling ink into his quill in the living room, froze. His golden eyes narrowed into slits.
"He is here," he said, his voice sounding like steel scraping against stone.
"Who?" you asked, but the answer came in a deep, guttural howl that echoed across the entire island, making the window panes vibrate.
Mihawk turned sharply to Perona, who was floating nearby with an armful of pink pillows.
"Perona. Get the keys. Now. Go to the dungeons and lock the wine cellar. Twice. Then station your most depressing ghosts in front of it," he commanded.
"What? Why?" she stammered, startled.
"Because if Shanks gets his hands on my vintage reserves, there will be nothing left of this island but a bare rock and a pile of glass shards," Mihawk snapped, already striding toward the main gate.
Outside in the courtyard, right beneath a red moon peering through the mist, stood a figure. It wasn't a man. It was a colossus in human form, a heavy cloak the color of curdled blood draped over his shoulders.
Shanks, the Blood Moon Werewolf, looked like wildness incarnate. One eye was crossed by three jagged scars, his red hair resembled flickering flames, and fangs peeked from the corners of his mouth.
"Mihawk! You old stick-in-the-mud!" Shanks bellowed, his laughter sounding more like the bark of a dominant alpha. "I heard you got yourself some pups! So I came to see if they’ve finally taught you how to wag your tail!"
"Shanks. Your presence is like a plague. I hope you don't plan on staying longer than it takes for the sun to rise." Mihawk stopped five paces from him.
Shanks ignored him, his gaze falling on you. In a flash, he was standing right there, his speed was supernatural.
"And this must be the patient woman who keeps you on a leash! And... wait, what do we have here?" He leaned down toward Sera.
"Are... are you a wolf? A big wolf?" Sera stared at him with wide yellow eyes, his halo flickering nervously.
"I’m the biggest wolf you’ll ever meet, squirt!" Shanks scooped him up with one hand and tossed him high into the air, only to catch him again with a thunderous laugh. Sera, who looked like he wanted to incinerate the intruder a moment ago, suddenly burst out laughing.
"My name is Sera!" the boy protested, though he was already enthusiastically tugging at the werewolf’s thick fur.
"Zoro, keep an eye on him. And don't let him mark the pillars in the castle," Mihawk muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Hey, Red-hair. Hope you brought something to drink, because the old man just had the cellar locked," Zoro smirked, stepping toward Shanks.
"I knew he’d be scared! But don't worry, Mihawk, we’re not drinking your wine today. Today, we drink to family! Even the ones with wings, six arms, and a moody demon for a father!" Shanks grinned broadly, slapping a massive barrel labeled Mountain Troll Moonshine and winking at you.
The evening devolved into glorious chaos. Shanks told stories of hunts under the blood moon, Sera tried to mimic his howling, which sounded like a whistling teakettle, and even Perona eventually admitted that werewolf fur was "actually a pretty stylish accessory" and mostly, very soft.
Mihawk sat in his armchair, a glass of that wickedly strong moonshine in one hand, his other hand resting on your shoulder. He watched his home shake with laughter, watched Zoro argue combat technique with Shanks, and saw Sera trying to bribe Shanks with a seashell to teach him how to howl "like a real wolf."
"I told you we’d need more wine," you whispered to him.
"Next time... next time I’m lining the walls with silver," Mihawk sighed, but there was no irritation in his eyes. Only the peace he had found in this mad company of monsters.
As Shanks roared with laughter again and Sera clapped enthusiastically, Mihawk’s lips curled into a faint smile. Kuraigana was no longer the island of a lonely demon. It was a fortress, full of misfits who called themselves a family.
As the hours passed, the mood in the hall shifted from a wild celebration to a warm, familial conspiracy. Shanks, now sprawled comfortably on the floor by the hearth, looked more like a large, contented hound than a feared werewolf.
"Dad, can Uncle Shanks come over more often?!" Sera called out, lying happily on top of Shanks.
"No, Sera. That man is pure indiscipline converted into energy. Use him as a lesson in how not to behave when you grow up," Mihawk said, raising an eyebrow. Shanks laughed so hard his ears twitched, shifting back into his human form.
"Don't be such a bore, Hawkeye! Look at them. They’re great." He gestured toward the corner where Zoro had fallen asleep sitting up, all six arms crossed over his chest and katanas neatly lined up beside him.
Perona had draped one of her black veils over his shoulders to "civilize him a bit" and was currently trying to explain to Sera that werewolves should be brushed at least once a week.
"So, Mihawk," Shanks lowered his voice as Sera ran off to help Perona with another batch of cookies. "You actually did it. A demon of the angelic army, an Oni, a ghost princess, and you. And her..." He glanced at you. "How did you manage it? You, who always said your only friend was your sword?"
Mihawk looked at his hand, still resting on your shoulder. His fingers gently squeezed the fabric of your dress.
"I didn't 'manage' it, Shanks. It just happened. Like the tide returning to the shore. I could no more fight it than you can fight the moon," he replied calmly.
You smiled at him, and he returned the look, a rare, genuine moment where the mask of the world's greatest swordsman completely vanished.
Suddenly, a muffled thumping and scraping echoed from the hallway. Everyone went silent. Mihawk stiffened.
"Perona... I told you to lock that cellar," he said sternly as the girl returned.
"I did! I locked it! Ghosts and all!" Perona squeaked.
At that moment, one of Perona's Negative Hollows staggered into the hall. It looked utterly trashed, clutching an empty bottle in its translucent hands and wailing piteously. Then, from the darkness of the corridor, came a satisfied belch.
"It can't be," Mihawk muttered. "My vintage 1492 Cabernet..."
Benn Beckman, Shanks’ right hand, poked his head around the corner with a calm expression and a second bottle in hand.
"My apologies, Mihawk. Your ghosts are depressing, I'll give you that, but after two glasses they're actually quite decent to talk to about the meaning of existence. Good lads. And don't be mad at us, it was captain's orders," the silver-haired fox smiled knowingly.
"See that?! Not even your magic can stop a thirsty werewolf when he’s got a smart man with him!" Shanks exploded into a fit of laughter, rolling onto his back.
"Shanks... Benn... You have exactly ten seconds to leave my castle before I turn your pelts into a rug for the fireplace." Mihawk rose slowly. His aura turned pitch black, and the floor beneath him began to frost over.
"We’re going, we’re going!" Shanks laughed, scrambling up. He whistled for his crew and turned to you and Sera. "Take care! And Sera, remember, next time you want to pull a sword on your brother, try chewing on his boots first. Works much better!"
"Bye, Uncle Shanks! Come back soon! I’ll bring you the best seashells!" Sera waved with both hands.
When the castle gates finally closed and the silence of Kuraigana returned to its old tracks, Mihawk stood there, staring down the empty hallway toward the cellar. Then he looked at you, at the sleeping Zoro, and at Sera, who had leaned against his side and drifted off as well.
"Next time," Mihawk said with an air of finality, "I lock the castle."
"Liar," you chuckled. "You're glad he came."
Mihawk didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked Sera up in his arms, took your hand, and together you headed toward the bedroom.
"Perhaps. But those shells Sera promised him... I will personally deduct them from his hide as pasyment for those bottles," he said solemnly, though you caught the hint of amusement in his voice.
Above the island of Kuraigana, the blood moon set, replaced by the silver glow of dawn. The family of monsters and humans finally slept, protected by walls, swords, and above all, each other.
Ultimately, you gave in to curiosity and stepped inside the Night Raven Pet Shop. At first glance, it looked like any other pet store.
There were shelves lined with aquariums and cages, treats for cats and dogs, and the familiar scent of hay and dry kibble. But there was something different about this place, something... subtly magical. And then, you saw him.
A small squirrel sat in a cage in the middle of the shop, his eyes calm and observant, as if he recognized you instantly. He watched your every move, and as you drew closer, he elegantly rearranged his small pinecones and tiny toys within the cage. There was something profoundly soothing about his presence.
"He’s quite special, isn’t he?" you heard the shopkeeper say from behind the counter. An older man with a wrinkled smile. "Some animals have a natural talent without ever being taught. This one... well, I think you’ll need a bit of patience, but believe me, he’s one of a kind."
You stepped closer, and the squirrel looked you straight in the eye. In that moment, his composure and effortless elegance completely charmed you. The shopkeeper noticed your interest and smiled gently.
"You know what? I think the two of you would get along just fine. If you’d like, I can get him ready for you," he offered immediately.
"I’m just... looking," you whispered, though in your heart, you knew it wasn’t true.
"Well, that’s fair," he nodded. "But trust me, sometimes you don't choose the pet. The pet chooses you."
And so, you ended up taking him home. During the drive, you placed his little carrier on the seat, but he eventually curled up in your lap, calm and content.
The next morning, you were awoken by an unexpected aroma. Muffins? No, that couldn’t be right... But then you caught sight of someone at the kitchen counter.
A tall man with glasses and a thick, bushy tail stood there, humming softly to himself. A tray of freshly baked muffins sat on the counter.
"I hope you like mint. Also, you should probably throw out that expired milk," he said with a slight smile as he turned toward you.
You stood there, jaw dropped, staring at him in disbelief as if you were still dreaming.
"Who... what...?" you stammered.
"I’m Trey," he said simply, as if it were perfectly normal to break into someone’s kitchen and bake muffins. "And now you know why that little squirrel was so calm. Actually... I am him."
Your jaw hit the floor. The little squirrel? Trey? None of it made sense, and yet... it was impossible to deny his gentle presence, his composure, and that strange sense of security that seemed to surround him.
"S-so... you’re... the squirrel?" you managed to ask. Trey nodded, his tail giving a quiet flick.
"Well, not entirely. Only when I’m out and about... or rather, when I want to be inconspicuous." He smirked and set the tray on the table. "But here we are, and I don't think you should stress over it. Muffins taste better when they’re baked with love."
You couldn't hold back your laughter or your wonder. The whole situation was so surreal that you eventually just nodded and sat down at the table.
Trey sat across from you, his tail swaying gently behind him, and you began to talk. He told you about his life between the human and squirrel worlds. How difficult it could be to balance being a man and an animal while always remaining true to himself.
There was something warm about his voice and the way he watched you with eyes that were just as calm and wise as the little squirrel in the cage.
That evening, you sat together in the kitchen. Trey had his legs crossed, and you were gently stroking his tail.
"So... you’re still essentially that squirrel?" you asked softly.
"Yes and no," he smiled, drawing you closer. "But does it matter right now? The important thing is that we’re together."
His warmth enveloped you, and for the first time since waking up to this new reality, you felt absolute peace. The little squirrel who had charmed you at the shop was now here in his human form.
The following weeks were filled with small, tender moments. Trey helped you in the kitchen, occasionally ventured out into the garden to play with nuts just like a squirrel, and the two of you found your own rhythm.
Every smile, every gentle touch made you believe that magic exists and that sometimes, it comes in the form of a tall man with glasses and a furry tail who bakes you muffins without you saying a word.
And even though it still felt impossible to believe that you had bought a squirrel only to share your home with a weresquirrel, every "Good morning" accompanied by a soft caress on your cheek convinced you of one thing: that day in the shop was definitely no mistake.
Vibe: chaotic family comedy, wholesome slice of life, found family, humor, domestic chaos
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
The air in the dining room was thick, not with the tension of battle, but with a strange, bittersweet aroma that smelled like a mix of cotton candy and lavender soap.
Perona was scurrying around the table in her fluffiest apron, while her Negative Hollows, sporting tiny chef hats, distributed the plates.
"Horo-horo-horo! I hope you're hungry! Today’s special menu is 'The Princess’s Midnight Surprise'!" she announced triumphantly, slamming a lid onto the table.
Mihawk sat at the head of the table, back straight, gaze fixed on the plate before him. On it lay something that resembled pasta, but it was a vibrant, neon pink and jiggled slightly of its own accord.
"Perona... why is the food moving?" Zoro, sitting opposite him, stared at his portion in disbelief.
"It’s a living garnish, you uncultured brute!" Perona snapped, stomping her boot. "It’s art! Mom said I should try to be creative!"
Everyone turned to look at you. Your expression was one of silent apology, you had only wanted to boost her confidence in the kitchen since she was so unsure of herself. You’d had no idea she would add crushed glitter and flower petals she’d scavenged from Mihawk’s garden to the sauce.
Sera sat between you and Mihawk. As a Seraphim, he was technically immune to poisons, but right now, his heart beat only for his family. He scooped up a spoonful of the pink mass and looked at Mihawk.
"Dad?" Sera whispered. "I think it’s edible... technically speaking. But I have a bad feeling about this."
"We are family, Sera. In a family, sacrifices must occasionally be made." Mihawk slowly raised his fork. It was clear he would rather face an entire fleet of Marines than this single bite.
"If I survive this, not even falling into a volcano can kill me." Zoro sighed, took a fork into each of his six hands, and with the expression of a martyr, dug in.
The silence that followed the first bite was absolute. Perona watched the movement of their jaws with intense anticipation.
"It is... an interesting combination of flavors, Perona. I detect... cod liver oil? And... strawberries?" Mihawk swallowed. His face didn't move a muscle, but a nerve near his eye twitched.
"And a hint of curry!" she added enthusiastically.
"Perona... why do I feel like your ghosts are flying around inside my stomach?" Zoro had been shoveling the food down with incredible speed, the "the faster it’s gone, the less I’ll taste it" strategy, but he suddenly froze.
"Horo-horo-horo! That’s the side effect! It’s food that lifts your spirits!" Meanwhile, Sera really got into the meal.
"I like it! It tastes like... victory!" he shouted, his mouth full of pink pasta. Perhaps it was because his body could digest rocket fuel, or maybe he was just so happy to be sitting at the table with his siblings.
When it was all over and the plates, some through sheer force of will were empty, Zoro slumped back in his chair, all six hands massaging his stomach.
"I'm cooking next time. I’m making onigiri. Normal. White. Glitter-free," he grunted.
"Shut up, you Onigiri-Demon!" Perona shot back, but she was smiling. She saw that even though they complained, no one had refused. Mihawk wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at you.
"Next time, dear, please ensure that creativity in the kitchen does not violate the Geneva Convention," he said calmly.
"It was the best, Sis! Next time I'll help you pick those glowing blue mushrooms from the forest! They’d be great in a soup!" Sera jumped up and threw his arms around Perona’s waist.
"See? At least someone here has taste!" Pride shimmered in Perona’s eyes.
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Mihawk let out a soft, deep chuckle. It was the most perfect chaos in the world. They might all feel sick tomorrow, but in that moment, at a table stained with pink sauce, this family was the happiest place on earth.
"Tomorrow, I’m ordering supplies from the mainland. A lot of supplies. And wine. We’re going to need a lot of wine to wash down that 'surprise'." Mihawk leaned toward you and whispered.
The sea was unnaturally calm that day. The surface shimmered like spilled silver, and your small boat rocked lazily on the swells.
You had long ago learned to read the currents, sensing where something valuable might be hiding. Today, something pulled you toward a spot where the depths seemed darker than usual. When you leaned into the rope and began hauling a heavy object from the water, your feet nearly slipped. It was massive.
An ancient chest, overgrown with seaweed and barnacles, so heavy your arms throbbed with the strain. With a grunt, you finally heaved it over the gunwale. It landed beside you with a dull thud.
Your heart hammered with anticipation. Kneeling by the lock, you pulled a thin metal pick from your pocket. With a few practiced movements, you clicked it open. You could already see yourself draped in gold and jewels.
But the moment you touched the lid and lifted it, a thick spray of black ink hit you square in the face.
You gasped, blinded and disoriented. Before you could wipe your eyes, something cold and powerful coiled around your wrist. With a sharp jerk, the force pulled you right to the edge of the chest.
When you finally managed to blink and refocus, your blood ran cold. Inside, a giant octopus was shifting. The word Kraken flashed through your mind.
Massive tentacles writhed against the inner walls of the chest, and between them… a face. Human. Pale, handsome, and deathly exhausted. Silver eyes watched you with a mix of surprise and wariness. Black hair spilled over his shoulders, and dark markings gleamed along his neck.
"Let me go," he murmured hoarsely.
You stared at him in utter shock. This wasn't just a monster. This was… someone. Half-man, half-creature of the deep. Slowly, carefully, you loosened your grip on the tentacle you had grabbed in your panic. He didn't release you immediately, but the pressure eased.
"You… you can speak?" you breathed.
"Law," he corrected quietly. "Trafalgar Law."
You helped him sit up and offered him your water flask. He hesitated for a moment before taking it. As he drank, his breathing gradually steadied.
Bit by bit, he explained. He was the son of the Kraken, the guardian of the deep trenches. Sea hunters had wounded him and imprisoned him in a charmed chest before tossing it overboard. Trapped with nothing, he would have slowly withered away.
As you helped him out of the chest, you saw his true form for the first time. From the waist down, his body transitioned into powerful, shimmering tentacles that moved gracefully across the deck. Yet, he didn't feel dangerous. Just tired… and lonely.
"Return me to the sea," he asked softly. And you did. You helped him into the water.
The moment he touched the brine, the sea surged around him, and his strength began to return. Before vanishing into the depths, he looked back at you one last time.
"I owe you my life," he said. "I will find you." Then, he was gone.
For a while, you thought it had been a dream. But then, the nights began.
Whenever you sat on the edge of the pier, letting your feet dangle in the water, you felt watched. Then one night, with the moon hanging high, the surface churned… and Law emerged before you.
He was strong now. His tentacles glistened, his scars were barely visible. But those silver eyes recognized you instantly.
From that moment on, he kept coming back. He told you of the abyss, of singing corals, of cities built from mother-of-pearl, and of treacherous currents that could tear stone apart.
In return, you told him of the human world, of the sky, the stars, and what it felt like to live a life without immortality.
Gradually, you lost your fear of his tentacles. Sometimes, one would curl cautiously around your ankle, almost shyly. Other times, he would gently pull you closer to the surface as you laughed.
One quiet night, when the wind was warm and the sea still, you looked at him differently than before.
"Why do you keep coming back to see me?" you asked softly. He was silent for a moment, his tentacle tracing patterns on the surface of the water.
"Because you saved me…" he replied. "And because when I am with you, I don't feel like a monster." Your heart swelled with tenderness.
Slowly, you leaned in until your forehead touched his. He was cooler than you, but his touch was gentle. As your brows met, the world around you fell silent for a heartbeat.
His tentacles wrapped around you with extreme care, as if you might break at any moment. He held you differently than a man would, but with such reverence that you laughed softly and leaned into him.
"Law," you whispered.
"I’m here," he replied, before he leaned in to give you a soft, careful kiss.
Every evening, you returned to the shore. And he was always there. Your guardian from the depths. A quiet love born of ink, darkness, and a single open chest.
Vibe: emotional hurt/comfort, found family, healing, unconditional love, stormy angst
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
The storm over Kuraigana was far from natural. Black lightning streaked across the sky, and the air tasted of ozone and char. Somewhere up there, Sera was weeping, and his grief shook the very foundations of the island.
Mihawk paused at the edge of the forest and turned back. He expected to see an empty path, but instead, he was met with an incredible sight.
Zoro, with one arm in a sling and bandages wrapped across his chest, was leaning on his remaining four arms, clutching a katana in each like a makeshift crutch. Perona, her hair a mess and her face streaked with soot, hovered beside him, her largest Hollow carrying a medical kit and a spare blanket. And you stood between them, your resolve set: you weren't coming back without your youngest.
"I told you to stay at the palace," Mihawk growled, though there was no real heat in his voice.
"Shut up, old man," Zoro coughed, spitting out a bit of blood. "The kid thinks he took me out. I have to go explain to him that if he wants to kill me, he’s gonna need at least another hundred years of training."
"And who’s going to scold him for those burnt curtains if not me?" Perona added, wiping away a tear she tried to mask with anger. "We’re going for him. All of us."
Mihawk looked at you. He saw your pain, but he also saw your strength. He gave a sharp, brief nod.
"Fine. We split up. Perona, search from above. Zoro, watch the coast. I and... Mom... will head for the cliffs," he decided.
The search lasted for hours. The rain that began to fall was hot, Sera’s tears took the form of liquid fire.
"Sera!" you called into the darkness of the forest. "Come home! Everything is okay!"
Finally, they found him. He wasn't on the cliffs. He had hidden in the darkest cavern beneath the castle, the place where Mihawk used to store old, forgotten weapons.
Sera sat in the corner, his wings wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon, his halo completely extinguished.
"Go away," a voice echoed from the shadows. It sounded like multiple voices speaking at once. "I’m a threat to everyone. I’m... dangerous." At that moment, Zoro burst into the cave. Or rather, he stumbled in.
"You’re a real idiot, kid," Zoro wheezed, leaning against the wall. "Look at me. I’ve got six arms, horns, and I look like a nightmare. Perona talks to corpses. Dad slices a mountain in half when he’s in a bad mood. No one in this house is normal, and no one is 'safe'... except maybe Mom."
"But I hurt you, Zoro. I could have killed you." Sera slowly peered out from beneath his wings.
"This? This is just a scratch. If you want to be my brother, you have to learn that in this family, we just happen to blow each other up sometimes. It comes with the territory." Zoro smirked, pointing to his scars.
"And if you think we’re just going to let you walk away, you really are a stupid angel. Who else is going to help me steal Dad’s wine when I’m older?" Perona flew closer and tossed a blanket over him.
"Sera. An angel has no choice. You do. You chose us. And we chose you. Explosions and all. Strength and all." Mihawk stepped forward, his shadow falling over Sera. Sera looked at you. You knelt in the mud and dust of the cave and reached out your hand.
"Come home, Sera. I’ll make you cocoa. No pink glitter. I promise," you said softly. Sera broke into sobs. He lunged at you, slamming into your arms so hard you lost your balance. Zoro caught you with one of his hands to steady you both.
"Mom... I was so scared you’d hate me," Sera sobbed, his voice finally returning to normal.
"Hate is far too much work, Sera," Mihawk murmured, resting a hand on the tangled group of his children. "And today, we are all far too tired."
You returned to the palace together. Mihawk carried Sera on his back, as the boy was emotionally and physically spent. Zoro limped alongside them, supported by Perona, though they both loudly dismissed it as 'humiliating.'
As you reached the castle, the storm over the island dissipated, revealing the stars. Sera was nearly asleep on Mihawk’s back, his face tucked into the black fabric of his coat.
"Dad?" Sera mumbled just before drifting off.
"Hm?"
"Zoro said I almost got him. Am I stronger than him?" he asked sleepily.
Mihawk looked at Zoro, who had just tripped over his own katana and was cursing like a sailor. Then he looked back at Sera.
"Today, yes, Sera," Mihawk whispered with a faint, almost invisible smile. "Today, you got us all."
It was the strangest procession Kuraigana had ever seen. But as the castle gates closed behind them, it was clear that this family was no longer an experiment. It was a fortress that no Seraphim, no government, and no fear could ever tear down.
The glass doors of the Nights Raven pet shop chimed as you stepped inside. The scent of hay, kibble, and something strangely sweet hung in the air, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.
You had originally come just to "look around." Nothing more. Just to see the cute animals, maybe pet a rabbit or pick up a treat for the neighbor’s cat. But then you saw him.
In a glass enclosure against the back wall, a silver puppy was huddled. His fur shimmered like moonlight, and he was… asleep. Or more accurately, he kept falling asleep.
Every time he managed to crack his eyes open, they would immediately grow heavy again. His little head would droop, and with a soft sigh, he’d drift off once more.
“Cute, isn't he?” a voice called out behind you. The shopkeeper was smiling almost suspiciously wide. “A very rare breed. Calm, gentle, the perfect companion.”
“I’m just looking,” you protested weakly, but you were already kneeling by the glass.
The puppy opened his beautiful, sleepy pale violet eye, and looked directly at you. Then, his tail gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wag. That was your undoing.
Twenty minutes later, you were walking out of the shop with a carrier in your arms, completely dazed by the salesman’s pitch, your heart full of doubt and your head spinning. Inside the carrier, the puppy breathed softly, curled into a tight ball.
At home, you opened the carrier carefully. The silver puppy didn't move. He kept sleeping as if the rest of the world didn't exist. You laid a blanket on the floor, lifted him gently, and tucked him into a soft pet bed. Then, you went to make yourself some tea.
When you returned, you nearly dropped your mug. There wasn't a puppy sleeping on the blanket anymore. There was a young man.
He had silver hair tousled from sleep, soft dog ears poking out from the top of his head, and a tail that he had instinctively wrapped around himself like a shroud. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. He looked so… peaceful. Vulnerable.
“What… what on earth…” you whispered.
His ears twitched at the sound. He woke with a start, blearily opening those same violet eyes. When he saw you standing over him, a flash of panic crossed his face.
“P-please, don’t call the hunters,” he blurted out, scrambling into a sitting position. His tail flicked nervously. “I… I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You were… a puppy,” you managed to say, standing there as still as a statue.
“Yes. I… I’m not very good at staying awake. That’s why I take that form. It’s safer.” The young man lowered his ears. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, you sat down on the floor across from him.
“I’m not calling anyone,” you said softly. “But you have to explain this to me.”
And so, between yawns and embarrassed pauses, he explained that he was a weredog, a being caught between human and hound, and that he’d been sold in the shop as an ordinary pet because… it was easier to sleep than to run away. That was the first time you truly talked.
The days passed quietly. He spent most of his time sleeping, either in his dog form at your feet or as a human on the couch. You grew used to it.
You prepared his meals, changed his water, and tucked him under a blanket whenever he shivered in his sleep. And every time he was awake, his eyes followed you.
A quiet, warm bond began to form between you.
One evening, you returned home exhausted. The moment you closed the door, you felt a soft warmth against your legs. The silver puppy pressed against you.
“You really are something else,” you whispered, sitting on the floor to pet him.
The world around you went still for a moment. When you took your next breath, you felt warm skin instead of fur. You looked up.
The young man was kneeling before you. His tail was wagging slowly, and his cheeks were flushed pink.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “For letting me stay.”
Your heart tightened with a strange feeling you couldn't quite name.
“What is your name?” you finally asked.
“Silver.” He gave a small smile.
From that moment on, everything changed. Silver began to stay in his human form longer, even though sleep still tried to claim him. He would sit beside you, and sometimes, in a half-daze, he would rest his head on your shoulder. If you didn't move away, he would always whisper a quiet thank you.
One night, he woke up trembling from a nightmare. Without a word, you pulled him into an embrace. He froze at first, then shyly hugged you back, his tail brushing lightly against your back.
You stayed like that for a long time. And you realized then that you were falling for him.
The truth caught up with you both one morning. Silver was gone. Only a note lay on the table:
I can’t put you in danger. Thank you for everything.
Your heart constricted with pain. Without thinking, you bolted outside. You searched for him in the pouring rain, your clothes soaked and tears streaming down your face.
You found him at the edge of the woods, exhausted, in his dog form, barely able to stay on his feet.
“You idiot,” you gasped, dropping to the ground beside him. “Did you really think I’d just let you walk away?”
“I don’t want you to suffer because of me.” He shifted back, drenched and shivering, his eyes full of hurt.
“I’m already suffering,” you whispered. “Because I love you.” His breath hitched. He pulled you into his arms slowly, tentatively, as if you might vanish.
“Then I’ll stay,” he said quietly. “If you’ll have me.”
“Always.” You smiled through your tears. His tail began to wag joyfully.
And for the first time since you met him, he didn't fall asleep immediately. He stayed awake just to hold you in his arms and walk you back home.
Vibe: angst, emotional breakdown, loss of control, family bonds, protective love
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
The afternoon was playful. Perona drifted above the courtyard, teasing Zoro while he tried to juggle six heavy stone barrels to practice the coordination of his six arms. Sera joined them, buzzing with excitement over the new "Black Light" technique Mihawk had been teaching him.
"Watch, Zoro! Mom, look!" Sera cried out, beginning to form a ball of energy in his palms. It was meant to be a tiny spark, a harmless trick for a laugh.
But inside him, deep within his core, something snapped. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the nightmares, or the buried stress from the Seraphim attack.
The ball of light suddenly turned pitch black and began to expand uncontrollably. The air around Sera started to vibrate with a high-pitched, painful hum.
"Sera? Stop it, that's not funny anymore," you said, stepping toward him.
"I... I can't hold it! Mom, it burns!" Sera’s face contorted in terror. His halo flared wildly, fueled by panic and agitation. Perona by your side floated closer as well.
"Mom, get back! Sera, fire it into the sky! Now!" Zoro instantly dropped the barrels and lunged for you.
It was too late. The energy detonated. It wasn't a blast of fire, it was a wave of pure, concentrated holy magic.
Zoro managed to throw himself in front of you and Perona, all six arms crossing in a defensive stance to shield you. But the blast was too close. The shockwave tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Zoro slammed into the stone wall of the palace, which spider-webbed and cracked under the impact.
The dust settled. In the silence, only heavy, ragged breathing could be heard. Zoro lay among the rubble of the wall. His chest was scorched, one of his arms was bleeding, and one of his horns had been chipped.
Perona lay beside him, dazed by the impact, her umbrella snapped in two. Though you were unhurt thanks to Zoro’s shield, your eyes immediately fell on Sera.
The boy stood in the center of a crater. Smoke still rose from his hands. He stared at Zoro’s blood on the ground, at the motionless Perona, and then at you, at the look of shock on your face.
"Zoro..." Sera breathed. "I... I didn't mean to... I..."
"Sera, it’s okay, he’ll survive, he’s strong!" you cried out, trying to run to him.
But Sera recoiled. There was no sadness in his eyes, only pure, paralyzing self-loathing. He looked at his hands as if they were alien, repulsive tools.
"I was right," he whispered in a voice that hurt more than the explosion. "I’m just a weapon. I’m dangerous. I’m... a monster."
"Sera, stay put!" Mihawk roared, appearing on the terrace and instantly taking in the scene.
Sera didn't even look at him. He snapped his black wings open so violently that the sand around him ignited. With one powerful beat, he shot straight up into the sky. At a speed that shattered the sound barrier, he vanished into the grey clouds hanging over the island.
"Sera! Come back!" you screamed into the empty sky, but only your echo answered.
"Breathe, Zoro. Breathe." Mihawk was instantly at Zoro's side. Zoro wheezed and coughed up a bit of blood.
"I’m... fine. The kid... packs a hell of a punch. We have to... go after him." He tried to stand, bracing himself on his arms, but two of them failed him and he sank back down.
You just stood there, staring at the horizon where the clouds were still swirling from Sera's wake. Your little angel, who used to collect seashells and fear you wouldn't love him, had just come to believe his greatest nightmare: that he didn't belong in your family.
"Zoro, stay with them. Tend to your wounds." Mihawk stood up, his face harder than ever, though a deep unrest flickered in his eyes.
"Where are you going?" you asked through tears, even though you already knew.
"I am going to get my son. Before he manages to convince himself he isn't one anymore." Mihawk slung Yoru across his back.
He struck out into the forest toward the highest cliffs, the place where Sera always hid when he wanted to be alone with his shells. But this time, there was no peace. A storm was beginning to gather over the island, triggered by Sera’s surging energy a storm of black light and angelic tears.
The thirty-fifth drawing goes to Lucy Heartfilia, the Celestial Spirit Mage from Fairy Tail. Bright and determined, she opens the gates to her spirits with courage and an unbreakable heart.
As a police officer in a harbor town, you were used to seeing a lot, but this suicide case felt wrong, it kept gnawing at you. You were standing by the side alley where the alleged victim was last seen when you heard a deep, rhythmic muttering.
"Suicide? Nonsense. The angle of impact, the fabric residue... it's a clear-cut case of murder with a clumsy attempt at a cover-up." It sounded like a critique aimed directly at your investigation.
You spun around to see a tall man in a slightly rumpled but expensive coat, with unruly dark hair and a gaze so piercing it sent a chill down your spine. He was talking to himself, staring intently at the spot where the body had lain only hours before. He was barefoot.
"Hey! Who are you and what are you doing here?" your voice snapped.
The man’s eyes flicked over you as if you were merely a minor obstacle in his thought process. You reacted on instinct. Within a second, you had him pinned against the cold brick wall of the alley.
"Talk. Tell me right now how you know what happened and why you think it wasn't suicide," you demanded, your heart pounding with adrenaline.
It caught him off guard, but only for a moment. His lips curled into a faint smirk.
"It was murder, Officer. I don't have time for your tedious procedures. I need to find out who did it before your... system lets them swim away," he said, emphasizing the word "system." He tried to push past you.
"Not a chance!" you held your ground. "Fine. Murder. Now tell me everything."
You loosened your grip but stayed glued to his side. He walked, and you followed with your notebook in hand. He pointed out details you had missed: scuff marks on shoes, wind direction, tiny abrasions on the victim's neck.
He dictated information as if you were his stenographer, and you hung on every word, scribbling furiously.
"Thief! Thief! My coat!" a shout suddenly rang out. The man, who still hadn’t given you a name, suddenly tensed. Without a word, he turned and bolted.
"Wait! Where are you going?!" you yelled after him. Just then, an indignant older man came running around the corner.
"That's him! He stole my Sunday jacket! Catch him!"
In that moment, you realized your "detective" was wearing someone else's, likely stolen clothes. Before you could react, he ripped the oversized coat from his shoulders mid-stride. He was now completely naked. He reached the nearest pier leading out to the ocean.
"Stop, or I'll use force!" you screamed.
He didn't listen. He broke into a sprint and, with a grace you wouldn't expect from such a tall man, he dove headfirst into the cold, dark harbor waters. He vanished beneath the waves.
You stood on the edge of the pier, jaw dropped, and merely gave a bewildered nod to the furious owner of the jacket. He was a thief. But the way he had disappeared into the water, the sheer lack of hesitation...
You waited for him to surface, but he never did. It was strange. Very strange.
More murders followed, and every time you arrived at a crime scene, your eyes searched for him. You would catch glimpses of the "thief" lurking nearby, barefoot, wearing some new, ill-fitting coat. But he always evaded you, vanishing before you could confront him.
After weeks of dead ends and chasing shadows, you went to the docks to think. You headed to an old, abandoned fishing pier where no one ever went. You sat on the edge, legs dangling over the water, talking to yourself out loud.
"The details don't add up. The killer must have known the patrol routes perfectly, yet he acted impulsively. It’s as if... as if he were in two places at once, or knew a path we don't..."
"That is an excellent observation, Officer Y/N," a voice answered from right beneath your feet.
You looked down in shock. You nearly collided with him as he broke the surface. He was wearing nothing at all, but his eyes were glowing. Only his chest was visible above the water.
"Our coat thief!" you gasped, your heart leaping. "What on earth-"
"You're on the right track," he interrupted, clearly delighted to share his theory. "The killer likely has access to the underground canal system that runs directly beneath every crime scene. It explains the speed and the disappearance without witnesses."
"That makes sense..." you whispered, starting to write in your notebook without taking your eyes off him. "Thank you for sharing this. I’ll update you as soon as I have a lead."
"Good. I expect nothing less," he replied with a slight smile that made you feel a strange warmth. He slipped back into the depths.
"Sherlock," you addressed him a few days later when he met you again, expectedly unexpected, by the pier. "You're a thief."
"Guilty. A matter of necessity, not a desire for property," he admitted with a shrug.
"Why? Why don't you just buy clothes? You're bright enough to earn a living. You're always barefoot and without a proper coat. You’ll catch your death of cold." Sherlock hesitated. He looked at the water, then back at you.
"I cannot... I have nothing on me, Detective. And I cannot walk like this." His tone was uncharacteristically shy, almost vulnerable.
"But what-" you started, but he was already submerging again, clearly unwilling to discuss it further.
Thanks to Sherlock’s intel, you were hot on the killer's trail. You led the investigation and finally cornered him. But the killer was faster. He ambushed you, disarmed you, and dragged you to that same old pier.
"You're too smart for your own good, Officer Y/N. You should have stayed with the paperwork," the killer spat. With cold indifference, he bound your hands and feet with thick rope and tossed you into the sea without a second thought.
The freezing water enveloped you instantly. You tried to scream, the rope cutting into your skin. You struggled in vain as your lungs began to burn. Air was running out. Water filled your mouth. This was it. The end.
Suddenly, something brushed against your legs, something powerful and fast. Then, two incredibly strong arms wrapped around your waist. He pulled you upward. The speed at which he moved was breathtaking.
You broke the surface, gasping and coughing.
"I've got you, Y/N. You're safe," your savior said, his voice deep and urgent.
He carried you out of the water and laid you on the damp stone steps of the shore. You coughed, struggling to find your breath. When your vision finally cleared, you saw him.
He was kneeling beside you, and from his waist down, instead of legs, there was a massive, shimmering, deep-blue tail with turquoise scales. You stared at him in awe and terror.
"Oh... now I see why you stole the clothes," you rasped. "Without them, you can't... Of course. A merman. It makes sense," you mumbled. He tilted his head, expecting hysterics or screaming, but you only smiled.
"Thank you, Sherlock. You saved my life."
"I was underwater when it happened. I saw him throw you in... you've confirmed for me that he is indeed the killer," he said, his eyes suddenly analytical again.
He asked for details about what the man said, what he did. You explained, and Sherlock simply nodded at his own deduction. "I was certain. Now there is no doubt. I have him."
Thanks to your evidence and Sherlock’s unusual assistance, the killer was caught. You became a local hero at the station.
As a thank you and an apology, you bought Sherlock the finest clothes you could find. A waterproof coat, a warm wool vest, and yes, most importantly shoes!
You invited him to dinner at a private restaurant with the best view of the sea. During the meal, you leaned in close.
"Sherlock, this is the most amazing and insane thing that has ever happened to me. A merman helping me catch a murderer. I'm completely blown away."
"Most people don't say that, Y/N. Most run away screaming. Or they want to see if I have gills, if I have bones... if I eat people. You're the first person who doesn't see me as a freak or a specimen to be dissected." Sherlock’s gaze softened.
That evening, something more than a partnership was born.
It wasn't long before the two of you rented a picturesque cottage right by the sea from Mrs. Hudson, a kind but nosy old lady who stubbornly believed Sherlock was just a "slightly eccentric sailor."
"Where did you actually live, Sherlock, before you met me and started collecting coats?" you asked one evening as you sat on the terrace watching the tide come in.
"Come, Y/N. I'll show you." He smiled, that warm, rare smile.
He took your hand and led you to the shore, where a steep cliff met the crashing waves. Beneath the cliff was a small, hidden sea cave. You cautiously followed him into the cool, clear water inside.
He shed the shirt Mrs. Hudson liked so much. You watched as his legs vanished, replaced by that magnificent, powerful tail.
He guided you into the darkest part of the cave, to a hollow carved out by the tides. There, he pulled you gently toward him, his tail coiled protectively around you. Your body pressed against his, your hair floating around you in the water. In that silent, underwater chamber, he kissed you.
It was a kiss of salt water, surprising passion, and a quiet promise. You were in a place no one else had ever been.
Then, he grabbed you by the waist and swam upward with incredible speed, surfacing right in the lagoon of your seaside cottage. You both laughed, drenched but happy. You brushed the hair from his forehead and leaned against his wet chest. You had your merman.
The thirty-fourth drawing goes to Igneel, the Fire Dragon King from Fairy Tail. A legendary dragon of immense power, he embodies both destruction and the fierce spirit of fire.
Vibe: hurt/comfort, family unity, emotional healing, training arc, protective instincts
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
The nightmares came that very first night. Sera, who used to sleep peacefully and warm as a little hearth, was now tossing in bed, his wings twitching nervously and his halo flickering an irregular, angry red.
In his dreams, there was no warmth of home, only a cold sky and endless rows of glass cylinders. He saw himself in them, not as Sera, the son and brother, but as S-Hawk, a nameless Seraphim, devoid of emotion, stripped of a soul.
He saw his siblings, his real ones, Zoro and Perona lying in the sand, motionless because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect them. Or worse, because he had been ordered to destroy them, and his body had obeyed against his will.
"No... Mom... Dad... run..." he mumbled in his sleep. Small black flames flickered from his halo, beginning to lick at the bedsheets. You were awake in an instant.
"Sera! Sera, wake up!" You shook him. The boy bolted upright, eyes wide and flooded with tears. His breathing was jagged, almost mechanical.
"They’ll change me! They’ll erase me! And then... then I’ll hurt you!" he panicked.
At that moment, the door burst open. Zoro stood there with all six arms ready, hair a mess but eyes sharp. Perona hovered right behind him, her ghosts flitting nervously around her.
"What’s going on?! Are they back?" Zoro barked, already reaching for his katanas.
"No," you said softly, pulling Sera to your chest. "Just a bad night."
Zoro snorted, sheathed his swords, and leaned against the doorframe. Perona flew inside and sat on the edge of the bed without being asked.
"Horo-horo-horo... You’re such a shrimp, kid. You think we’d be scared of you? Even if something snapped in that angel head of yours, I’d have you on your knees with a ghost before you could even say 'attack'."
"But they’re just like me. They’re Seraphim, warriors, killers. I’m a Seraphim too." Sera looked at her through his tears.
"Killers and Seraphim don’t have nightmares, Sera," a deep voice echoed from the hallway. Mihawk stood in the shadows, arms crossed. "Angels, and especially Seraphim, don’t cry or get jealous over seashells. You may have been made in the heavens, but your soul was born right here, on this island."
"Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll beat you into the ground until you forget those angels ever existed. Training with me is worse than any 'rehabilitation,' believe me." Zoro smirked, using one of his six hands to roughly ruffle Sera's hair.
"And I’ll make you a room full of stuffed animals so you don’t have time to think about nonsense," Perona added, tossing her Kumashi at him. "Now move over, I’m sleeping here too. My room is spookier than usual tonight."
And so, something unprecedented happened. Zoro slumped onto the floor by the bed, his swords laid out beside him like loyal hounds. Perona curled up at Sera's feet, and you and Mihawk stayed by his side. Sera felt warmth coming from every direction.
"Mom?" Sera whispered as his eyelids finally began to grow heavy.
"Yes, Sera?" you whispered back.
"Even if they come back... you won’t let me go, will you?" he asked in a small voice.
"Never, Sera. You’re ours. And we don't abandon our own." You stroked his wings and kissed his forehead.
Mihawk placed his hand over yours, and Sera finally exhaled. The fear was still there, deep down, but for the first time, it was weaker than the feeling of belonging. That night, he didn't dream of anything bad. Only of the sea, seashells, and one crazy family that would challenge the whole world for his sake.
The morning sun on Kuraigana wasn't warm, it was sharp and merciless, much like the atmosphere on the training grounds. The sand beneath the three swordsmen’s feet was scarred with deep furrows.
Sera stood in the center, breathing heavily, his halo pulsing in rhythm with his racing heart. He gripped his sword of pure light in his right hand, but his left hand was shaking uncontrollably.
Before him stood Mihawk, motionless as a mountain, Yoru resting against his shoulder. To his left, Zoro stood in a wide stance, all six katanas drawn, his horns glowing faintly in the morning haze.
"Again," Mihawk commanded. His voice was cold, but his eyes burned with strict attention.
"I... I can't," Sera wheezed. "I’m tired. My wings feel like lead."
"Tired? Forget tired, kid! Your Seraphim brothers fight with logic. If you want to win, you have to fight like an animal. You have to fight for us!" Zoro spat and spun two of his six blades.
Zoro lunged forward. It wasn't a practice strike, it was a dance of six blades that left no room for error. Sera cried out, instinctively leaping into the air to parry three blows, but the fourth katana caught him in the side with the flat of the blade.
"Focus!" Zoro roared. "When a Seraph fires a laser, they won't ask if your wings hurt!"
"I know! I want to be strong! I don't want Mom to be in danger again! I want to protect you all!" Sera hit his knees, eyes shimmering with tears of rage.
"The strength to protect doesn't come from fear, Sera. It comes from a decision. Decide that this island is yours. Decide that we are your blood." At that moment, Mihawk moved. It wasn't a lightning-fast strike, but a slow, crushing pressure of his aura.
Mihawk swung his blade, sending a gentle but firm shockwave toward Sera. This time, Sera didn't try to dodge. Instead, for the first time, he fused his angelic power with the emotion Perona had taught him, anger tempered with love.
His light-sword suddenly changed color. It wasn't just white anymore, streaks of black energy began to flow through it, the same hue as Mihawk’s blade.
"Kuroi Hikari!" (Black Light!) Sera screamed, and with one powerful swing, he cleaved Mihawk’s shockwave in two.
"Well, look at that. The shrimp’s starting to bite." Zoro stopped and gave an appreciative whistle.
"Good. Your technique is starting to shift. You’re no longer just copying me. You’re starting to forge your own path." Mihawk slowly lowered Yoru.
Sera stood panting, the flames on his back burning brighter than ever. He looked at his hands, then at his father and his brother. He wasn't shaking anymore.
"Next time..." Sera said, his voice steady, "next time, I’ll stop them at the shore. No one touches my mom. No one."
"I should hope so, shrimp." Zoro walked over and clapped him roughly on the back with one of his six hands, nearly knocking Sera over.
"That’s enough for today. Your mother made lunch. And if we’re not there on time, Perona will put ghosts in all our plates." Mihawk simply nodded toward the castle.
Sera smiled. The fear of the Seraphim was still there, somewhere deep down, but now he held something no other Seraph possessed: the will to protect someone.
Vibe: magical pet AU, were-creature, chaotic to soft, protective, domestic fluff, gentle romance
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
You bought a tiny crocodile that was bellowing at everyone else in the Night Raven Pet Shop. You’d originally intended just to have a quick peek, but the shopkeeper was so persuasive that you finally caved.
The little creature sat in his cage, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his green, scaly body and piercing eyes that watched you with unmistakable sharp intelligence.
“He is such a rare little thing,” the shopkeeper beamed. “I’m certain he’ll find a place in your heart.”
You walked home with a small box in which the crocodile was contentedly snoring. Once inside your house, he was surprisingly calm. With a sigh of relief, you settled him into his new enclosure and went to bed, feeling like you’d just gained a wonderful new little companion.
In the morning, you woke to the sound of loud shouting. It sounded as if someone were commanding an army somewhere in the house.
Carefully, you crept downstairs to find a boy with sharp teeth, green-tinted skin, and thick scales on his arms standing by your microwave. He was pointing a finger at it, his eyes wide with horror.
“This device is an abomination! Where is the firewood?!” he bellowed.
“It’s not an abomination... and who on earth are you?” you stammered, still half-asleep and utterly confused.
“I am Sebek! And you… you are the one who brought me into this chaos!” The boy took a deep breath and nodded sharply.
“Sebek?” you repeated cautiously. “You’re… you’re the crocodile?”
“Indeed. I can shift my form, but in the mornings… well, sometimes it is difficult to control entirely. Just have patience.” Sebek nodded firmly.
“So… the whole time, you were the crocodile screaming in the pet shop?” You stood there, still unable to believe your eyes.
“Correct,” Sebek replied, his expression softening into something slightly guilty. “I only wanted to test if you truly wanted me. And…” his voice dropped to a murmur, “…yes, I wanted to be with you.”
A strange warmth filled your chest. His honesty was so boyish yet mature at the same time that you couldn’t help but smile.
“So… what now?” you asked gently.
“Now, perhaps I should assist you with your… monstrosity.” He pointed to the microwave again, this time with a look of dead seriousness.
“You mean you’re going to teach me how to cook over an open fire?” You laughed, and he responded with a cute, quiet grunt that transitioned into a chuckle.
The morning flew by, and you soon discovered that Sebek didn't just have sharp teeth and scaly skin, he also possessed a wealth of knowledge about ancient ways of life and a meticulous devotion to taking care of you.
He prepared tea the traditional way, hovered near you during breakfast, and showed you how to carry logs safely when you wanted to light the fireplace.
“May I hold you?” Sebek asked surprisingly softly when you leaned down to his height.
“Of course,” you replied, feeling his warm, scaly hand rest gently in yours. In that moment, you felt that all the chaos, his outbursts and his unusual presence, was exactly where it was meant to be. With you.
“Very well, then I shall stay by your side. But I warn you, every morning may be an adventure,” Sebek smiled.
“I don’t mind that at all,” you answered, your face lighting up.
And so began your strange but magical morning. The little crocodile who became a boy now sat beside you, and the two of you shared the first moments of a new life full of surprises, laughter, and tenderness.
Every day with him was extraordinary, and you knew neither of you would ever want to return to the "normal" world.
A few evenings later, dusk settled over your apartment like a soft blanket. Sebek sat beside you on the sofa. His scales now had a faint, muted green luster as they caught the lamplight, and you found every move he made… soothing.
Though he’d recently been exploding at the microwave and shouting at anything electric, he was now gentle, as if his monstrous animal side remained tucked away inside, leaving only his soft, human part on the outside.
“Can you show me how you change form?” you asked quietly, hands folded in your lap.
Sebek smirked, and at your side, a tiny, adorable crocodile emerged from his scales. His eyes were still filled with that same intelligent, mischievous spark.
You gently stroked his back. It was incredible to touch something that was simultaneously wild, alive, and yet yours, safe and loving.
Morning arrived with the quiet whisper of birds outside, and Sebek was already standing by the window in his human form. His head was tilted as he watched the sunbeams dancing across your kitchen.
“May I cook something for you?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Certainly,” you said, watching his focused expression. He held a small knife, slowly slicing fruit. It was strange, yet so calming to watch his precise movements. Every piece of fruit that landed on the plate was exactly where it was supposed to be.
After breakfast, you sat beside him on the sofa, and Sebek leaned his head against your shoulder.
“You know,” he began softly, “every day with you is… special. In a good way.”
“That’s sweet,” you said, stroking his hair. “I feel safe with you… even if you are an explosive crocodile sometimes.”
“Just wait until I show you how well I can build a fire,” he whispered with a glint in his eyes. “But I promise I won’t burn you.” Sebek laughed, and his warm chuckles filled the room.
You spent the afternoon outside. Sebek played with the small birds and occasionally shifted into a crocodile just to make you laugh. His little legs skidded over the grass, and he grinned at you as you tried to catch him. It was so absurdly sweet that you had to sit down on the grass and laugh along with him until your cheeks ached.
As the sun set, Sebek shifted back into a human and sat beside you.
“May I hold you?” he asked, his eyes shimmering with tenderness. You nodded, and he leaned into you. His scaly hand was warm and soft, exactly as you had imagined.
“Sebek…” you started, but he interrupted you with a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“Shhh… just enjoy being together,” he whispered.
And so you sat there as the stars slowly flooded the sky. Every movement, every gentle touch convinced you that you were exactly where you belonged.
Sebek wasn’t just your crocodile, and he wasn’t just a boy with scales. He was your friend, your protector, and the one who taught you that love can take truly unexpected forms.
In the evening, you read books about magical creatures together, and Sebek showed you various legends. When you laughed at his dramatic storytelling, his scales shimmered, and he smiled back at you.
“I’m glad I have you,” he said, pulling you closer.
You knew that even if his days began with shouting at the microwave, every day that followed would be full of laughter, tenderness, and those sweet, small moments shared only by the two of you. And that was more than enough.
The thirty-third drawing goes to Winry Rockbell, the automail mechanic from Fullmetal Alchemist. Kind and strong-willed, she supports others with both her skills and her unwavering heart.
You knew them both from Heaven. Back then, when wings were a matter of course and the world was flooded with light, laughter, and promises that were never broken.
Sebastian and Claude were different from the others. They were always brilliant, proud, possessing razor-sharp minds and a gaze that could read between the lines of fate.
You were the bridge between them. You laughed with them, argued with them, soared high above the clouds, and believed that nothing could ever shatter such a friendship. But then came the Fall. One day, they simply vanished. No words, no trace.
Years later, you were sent on a mission to investigate a peculiar occurrence, a lavish masquerade ball at the Trancy manor. Suspicions of powerful demonic activity were more than evident.
Donning a simple silver mask that concealed half your face and masked your angelic essence, you entered the vast ballroom bathed in the glow of chandeliers. Music played softly, laughter drifted through the air, and masks hid far more than just faces.
And then, you saw them. Sebastian stood by one of the pillars. He wore a black raven mask. Elegant, composed, and dangerously charming.
On the opposite side of the hall was Claude, shrouded in darkness with a black spider mask. Their gazes clashed like the blades of knives. The hatred between them was almost tangible, the tension could be cut with a wire.
Sebastian was the first to notice you. In the crimson light of the lanterns, his eyes caught the one detail others had missed: the way you held your head, the way you moved. In that heartbeat, his world stood still. He crossed the floor toward you with the grace of a predator.
"What a sweet little angel we have here," he said, bowing theatrically with an amused smile playing on his lips.
Your heart skipped a beat. Claude noticed instantly. His eyes narrowed, and recognition was immediate.
"An angel among sinners and demons... how poetic," he remarked, stepping closer, his gaze measuring you slowly.
Your cover was blown. Sebastian lightly lifted your hand, his fingers grazing yours with a touch so faint it was barely there. Even through your glove, you shivered.
"Do you not recognize an old friend?" Sebastian whispered.
"I recognize... both of you." Your voice was barely a whisper.
"We have searched for you for ages." Claude offered a small, cold smile.
"And for ages, you remained silent," you replied.
The tension between them surged. Both were standing far too close to you. Each wanted you on his side, and each remembered everything.
"We thought we had lost you forever," Sebastian leaned in closer, his voice softening.
"Just as we lost our place in Heaven," Claude added quietly.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Your chest tightened with a sudden ache.
"Because we became something... you were never meant to be near." Sebastian looked down, for the first time in a very long while.
"You never stopped being my friends." You took a step toward them.
The silence between the three of you was heavy, but no longer hostile. The music swelled. Masks swirled around you in a blur, yet there you stood alone, just the three of you. Like old times.
"Will you dance with me, Angel?" Sebastian offered his arm.
"Before you drag her into your game, I believe I should have my say as well." Claude gave a faint, mocking smirk.
You looked at them. Two demons. Two ancient pains. Two old bonds that had never truly severed.
"One dance for each," you decided calmly. Sebastian’s smile thinned with satisfaction and Claude gave a curt nod.
The dance with Sebastian was effortless, as if the world had momentarily reverted to what it once was. His touch was cautious, almost unbelievably tender.
"You still shine," he said softly. "Even here."
Then came Claude. His steps were precise, firm. His hand held you steady, as if he never intended to let go.
"The light that once burned us still draws us to you," he murmured, his voice meant for your ears alone.
At the end of the evening, you stood with them on the balcony, far from the noise.
"The mission is over," you announced quietly. "But you two... you are not my targets." Sebastian bowed his head. Claude lightly touched your hand.
Sebastian reached out, and for a moment, your fingers intertwined. Claude moved closer. Both were silent. For the first time, there was no malice between them, only a tension thick with the emotions they had suppressed for centuries.
"I always regretted not saying goodbye," Sebastian spoke softly. His voice was no longer mocking. It was fragile. "I left you alone."
"You both vanished. But I never stopped waiting for you." You stepped closer to him.
"No one ever waited for us," Claude exhaled heavily. "Until you."
Sebastian reached for you. You hesitated for a second, then placed your hand in his. His grip was gentle, almost tentative. With his other hand, he touched your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin just beneath the edge of the mask.
"You are still my light," he whispered.
Before you could catch your breath, he leaned in. His kiss was quiet, slow, and surprisingly tender. There was no demonic passion in it, only a pure sentiment that had survived centuries of exile. For a moment, you lost yourself in the warmth of his lips and the way the world simply dissolved.
When he pulled back, you stood there, your breath trembling. Claude stepped toward you. His gaze was dark, but not cold. It was painfully open.
"I have envied him for an eternity," he admitted softly.
"You don't have to." You turned to him.
He gently took your hand and drew you closer. His touch was surer, deeper. He kissed you differently than Sebastian. Slowly, with an unexpected intensity, as if pouring all his unspoken feelings, regrets, and longings into that single moment. Your breath caught in your chest, but you didn't pull away.
When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours. You stood between two demons who were once angels. And yet, you had never felt safer. Sebastian gently took one of your hands, Claude squeezed the other.
"Even if you are an angel," Sebastian said quietly.
"You belong with us," Claude finished. And for the first time since their Fall, you allowed yourself to believe that love could survive both Heaven and Hell.
Vibe: action, family bonds, protective instincts, emotional intensity, found family vs destiny
— ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ — ✧ —
A month had passed. A month during which Kuraigana had transformed. The garden was riddled with craters from Zoro’s training sessions, Sera had learned five different ways from Perona to insult someone without using a single swear word, and Mihawk... Mihawk looked almost content.
Everything changed on a Tuesday afternoon. The sky wasn't blue, but a strange, metallic grey.
You were sitting on the porch, watching Sera show off a move Zoro had taught him. Suddenly, he froze. His halo flickered wildly and then nearly went dark.
“Sera? What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.
“I hear them... brothers... sisters... They’re coming for me.” The boy was trembling.
Before you could react, the air above the courtyard tore open. This time, it wasn't just one flash, but three. Three figures descended from the clouds.
It was them. A small girl with snake-like eyes, a Seraph with shark’s teeth, and one who looked like a massive, silent giant. They all had the same black wings as Sera, the same tanned skin, and the same shock of white hair. But their eyes... their eyes were hollow. No spark, no fear, no love.
“Unit S-Hawk,” the girl spoke in a cold, inhuman voice. “Your deviation from the Order has exceeded permissible limits. You have been designated a deserter. Return for rehabilitation is mandatory.”
“No... I’m not a deserter. I have... I have a family!” Sera took a step back, bumping into your legs.
“Family is not in the Order,” the giant Seraph replied, raising a hand as a laser discharge began to form. “Resistance is futile.”
“Hey, you feathered freaks! This is private property. And the kid stays with us!” At that moment, Zoro charged out of the palace. A katana in each hand, his horns glowing a deep, dark crimson.
“Horo-horo-horo! You guys look so boring! You need a little negativity to know what life is actually about!” Perona drifted down from the other side, flanked by an army of her largest, most depressing ghosts.
The Seraphim didn't even flinch. To them, these were merely obstacles.
“Eliminate the targets,” the Seraph girl commanded.
The shark-toothed Seraph lunged at Zoro. Water materialized around him into solid blades, and the courtyard turned into a battlefield. The giant Seraph unleashed a volley of lasers at Perona, she barely dove out of the way, her ghosts evaporating under the heat of pure energy.
Sera watched as the people he had chosen fought against his own blood. He saw the Seraph girl aim her petrifying beam directly at you.
“MOM, LOOK OUT!” he screamed, lunging in front of you, his own wings spreading wide like a shield.
It was an unfair fight. The Seraphim were engineered to be the world's strongest weapons. Zoro, even with six arms, was struggling to parry the water Seraph, and Perona was screaming in frustration because her ghosts barely worked on soulless angels.
“Enough games,” the girl said, her eyes glowing for the final strike.
In that instant, time stood still. The temperature in the courtyard dropped ten degrees. The air pressure became unbearable.
Mihawk stepped through the main doors. He didn't shout. He didn't run. He simply walked. His hand rested on the hilt of Yoru. Every step he took was accompanied by the sound of the stone cracking beneath his feet.
“My house,” Mihawk said, his voice so deep it vibrated in the bones of everyone present. “My wife. My children.”
He drew his massive black sword. With a single swing that looked almost lazy, he sent out a shockwave that blasted the water Seraph and the giant hundreds of yards back into the sea.
Mihawk stopped in front of the Seraph girl, who, for the first time in her existence, showed something resembling hesitation.
“Tell your creators,” Mihawk said, leveling the tip of his blade at her throat, “that if they send their toys to my island one more time, I will personally come and cleave the very heavens you fell from.”
The girl stared into those golden eyes and felt something that wasn't in her heart: an absolute, untamable will to protect his domain.
“Retreat,” she finally commanded, her voice slightly shaky.
Without another word, the Seraphim launched off the ground and vanished into the clouds as quickly as they had appeared.
Silence fell over the courtyard. Zoro sheathed his swords, breathing heavily as he wiped blood from a gash on his shoulder. Perona drifted to the ground, shaking, and immediately pressed herself against you.
“They... they’ll come back. I’m a danger to you,” Sera stood there, head bowed.
Mihawk approached him, sheathed Yoru, and looked down at the boy. Then he did something he had never done before: he dropped to one knee to be at eye level with him.
“You aren't a danger to them, Sera,” he said gravely. “You are a reminder that even an angel can have a soul. And that is what they fear most.”
“Dad... you said I was your child.” Sera’s eyes went wide. Mihawk looked away, as if the admission stung a little.
“I said many things in the heat of battle. Now go help Zoro with that shoulder. And then...” he paused, looking at you, “...then we’re going to need more wine. It’s been a long day.”
Sera ran over to Zoro and began assisting with first aid. Perona joined them, nagging Zoro for being clumsy.
You watched them and knew this was only the beginning. The world wouldn't leave them in peace. But with Mihawk by your side and this crazy band of children... the heavens didn't stand a chance.
Dense jungle growth surrounded you on all sides. The humid air clung to your skin, leaves brushed softly against your arms, and every step was accompanied by the rustle of grass and the distant calls of unknown creatures.
You walked cautiously, yet curiosity pulled you forward. You were already far beyond the reaches of civilization, most would have been terrified, but for you, these walks in nature were a sanctuary.
As you approached a particularly massive tree with branches entwined in thick vines, you didn’t even notice the shadow looming above. You took two more steps when suddenly, a cold, scaled tail coiled around your waist.
Before you could even let out a cry, you were hoisted into the air. The world spun, and your heart leapt into your throat. You hung several feet above the ground, held firmly, but not painfully.
Taking a breath, you looked up to see a green-haired man with a piercing gaze and sharp, calm features. Beneath his human torso, a long serpentine body coiled, shimmering in the dappled light.
"What are you doing this far from people?" he asked with a yawn, as if he hadn't just found you dangling in the air like a lost kitten. You froze.
"I- I... was just taking a walk," you breathed out unsteadily.
He studied you in silence for a moment. His golden eyes examined you without hostility, showing more of a sleepy interest.
Finally, he lowered you slowly onto a sturdy branch beside him. The tail unwound, and you instinctively smoothed your dress, as if the gesture could help you regain your composure.
"Zoro," he introduced himself simply. "And you’re clearly lost." You shook your head, you knew the way back.
He settled more comfortably on the branch, his massive snake body coiling around the tree trunk to create a sort of natural backrest.
You sat down nervously a short distance away. Despite his intimidating appearance, he radiated a stillness that was unexpectedly grounding.
"Humans don’t visit Nagas often," he noted. "So, you caught me by surprise."
"Do you... hunt humans?" you asked tentatively.
"Only the ones who start it," he raised an eyebrow before answering with a smirk. A faint hint of a smile flickered across his lips, and your tension finally began to melt away.
You spent the rest of the day with him. It turned out Zoro was a loner who protected the jungle as naturally as he breathed.
He told you about his training, battles with monsters, and how he’d grown used to his own company. In return, you shared stories of where you came from and what drew you here.
As the sun began to set, the sky turned to gold, and green light fractured between the leaves. Zoro quietly escorted you back to the edge of the jungle. His movements were silent and elegant, yet full of power.
"You should stay among people," he said eventually.
"And you should come among them once in a while," you replied with a faint smile. He just snorted at that and shook his head.
From that day on, you began returning to the jungle. At first, Zoro welcomed you with the same guardedness, but soon his presence became a part of your world.
He taught you how to move through the undergrowth, how to recognize edible fruits, and how to listen to the rhythm of the forest. Sometimes, he would carry you on his tail when the terrain became too treacherous.
Over time, you found yourself longing for the sound of his voice. One day, you cut yourself on a sharp stone. Without hesitation, Zoro glided over to you and tended the wound with herbs. His touch was surprisingly gentle. When you shivered from the pain, he pulled you closer.
"You aren't used to this world," he murmured.
"But I want to be," you answered softly.
He looked up at you. This time, there wasn't just vigilance in his eyes, there was genuine concern. From that moment on, he began to protect you openly. He accompanied you almost every time, his body instinctively coiling around you at the slightest hint of danger.
For the first time, you found yourself leaning against his chest without shame. His warmth was strangely comforting.
One evening, you sat by a quiet pond. It reflected the starlight, and the jungle sang a deep nightly song around you. You sat close to his coiled form, bare feet dipped in the water.
"Why are you always alone in the jungle?" he asked suddenly.
"Because I'm not alone here," you answered honestly.
He went silent. Slowly, he wrapped his tail around you, this time without warning, but with a tenderness that took your breath away. He pulled you to him until your forehead rested on his shoulder.
"There are dangerous things that will want to take you," he said quietly.
"Then keep watch over me," you smiled.
The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. It was a quiet, hesitant touch, but heavy with emotion. Your heart raced.
He kissed you for the first time, cautiously, as if afraid you might vanish. You pressed closer to him, and his grip tightened. He held you near and hid his face in your shoulder.
He didn't want you to see how much it meant to him, or how deeply his cheeks had flushed red.
From that moment, the jungle ceased to be a foreign place. It became a home you shared with a green-haired naga who had once lifted you into the air and never truly let you back down to earth alone.
