selmasemlan

[selmasemlan]

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

or

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

or

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

R.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

[selmasemlan]

Finding Those That Can´t Protect Themselves

Summary: Where Luna protects others

Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Luna (OFC)

Author note: This Luna is one of my favourite ones, truly

Warning: mention of violence

Word count: 1212

Series Masterlist

Finding Those That Can´t Protect Themselves

The city of Alubarna was in turmoil, the sounds of clashing weapons and cries of battle filling the air. Dust and sand swirled in the wind, obscuring the chaotic scene as the rebels and the royal army clashed in the streets. The Straw Hats, scattered throughout the city, fought valiantly to turn the tide of the battle in favor of the people of Alabasta.

Luna, her heart pounding with anxiety, stood at the edge of the battlefield. The harsh desert sun beat down on her, but she kept her focus on the task at hand. She wasn’t a front-line fighter like Zoro or Luffy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. There were people everywhere—civilians caught in the crossfire, rebels injured and overwhelmed, their cries of pain and fear pulling at her heart.

With a deep breath, she moved into action, her hands raised as she summoned her powers. Vines sprouted from the dry ground, spreading out in a delicate network of green. They curled around fallen debris, creating makeshift shelters for those too weak or injured to move. She guided the plants gently, forming soft cradles to lift wounded rebels out of harm’s way and carry them to safer areas.

“Hang on,” she whispered to a young woman cradling a child, fear etched into her face. The vines wrapped around them, forming a protective cocoon and gently lifting them away from the chaos. “You’ll be safe soon.”

Nearby, a group of rebels were struggling against a squad of Baroque Works agents, the odds clearly not in their favor. Luna’s heart clenched as she watched one of the rebels fall, his leg caught under a heavy stone. Without thinking, she sent a wave of plants surging forward, the vines wrapping around the agents and pulling them back, away from the rebels.

The sudden appearance of the plants took the agents by surprise. They struggled, but the vines held firm, binding them in place, just as she had done before. Luna stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. “Please, stop fighting. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.”

One of the agents sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “What do you think you’re doing, little girl? You think you can stop us with some flowers?”

Luna flinched, but she held her ground, her eyes shining with determination. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect these people. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t let you hurt them.”

The agent’s mocking laughter echoed through the street, but Luna ignored it, focusing instead on the injured rebels. She waved her hand, and the vines shifted, lifting the fallen rebel gently out from under the stone and carrying him to safety. His comrades looked on in astonishment and relief, their expressions softening as they realized what she was doing.

“Thank you,” one of them murmured, his voice rough with gratitude. “Thank you for saving us.”

Luna nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “I’m just glad I could help.”

She continued to move through the battlefield, her powers flowing around her like a living, breathing extension of herself. Wherever she went, she used the plants to create barriers, shielding civilians from stray attacks, or forming bridges over the rough terrain to help the rebels navigate the city more easily. Her presence, calm and focused, became a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

As the battle raged on, the sky above Alubarna darkened, ominous clouds swirling as if reflecting the tension below. Luffy, determined and unyielding, was making his way to the royal palace to confront Crocodile directly. Luna knew she couldn’t match Luffy’s raw power or his fighting spirit, but she could still do something to help.

She moved towards the outskirts of the city, where clusters of civilians huddled in fear, the battle closing in around them. The chaos was overwhelming, the air thick with dust and the cries of panic. Luna’s heart ached at the sight of children clinging to their parents, tears streaming down their faces, their small bodies trembling with fear.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hands, her eyes glowing softly as she called upon her powers once more. The plants responded eagerly, shooting up from the dry earth and forming a protective dome around the gathered civilians. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shield them from the worst of the battle.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re safe now. Just stay inside, and everything will be alright.”

A little girl, her face streaked with dirt and tears, looked up at Luna with wide, frightened eyes. “Are you really gonna protect us?”

Luna knelt down, smiling softly. “I promise, I’ll keep you safe. Just stay close to your family, okay?”

The girl nodded, her tiny hand clutching at Luna’s sleeve before retreating back into the arms of her mother. Luna’s heart swelled with determination. She had to keep them safe, no matter what.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the city, the shockwave sending a plume of dust and debris into the air. Luna stumbled, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the palace in the distance, its walls crumbling under the force of Crocodile’s power.

Luffy was up there, facing Crocodile alone. Luna’s hands clenched into fists. She wanted to help, to be there by his side, but she knew she had a different role to play. Luffy was fighting to defeat Crocodile; she needed to protect the people here, to keep them safe from the destruction that threatened to consume them all.

The ground beneath her feet trembled as another explosion echoed through the city. The civilians huddled together, their fear palpable. Luna closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She needed to stay calm, to be their strength.

She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Zoro, his swords drawn, his eyes sharp and focused. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil around them. “Just trying to keep everyone safe.”

Zoro nodded, his gaze scanning the surroundings. “You’re doing great. Just keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll handle the rest.”

Luna smiled, feeling a surge of reassurance at his words. “Thank you, Zoro.”

With renewed determination, she turned back to the civilians, her hands moving gracefully as she strengthened the barriers around them, the plants growing thicker and more resilient. She couldn’t fight Crocodile head-on, but she could do this. She could protect these people, keep them safe from the chaos that threatened to tear their home apart.

As the battle continued to rage, Luna remained steadfast, her powers flowing around her like a protective shield. She was a calming force amidst the storm, her presence a beacon of hope and safety for those who had lost everything.

And though she couldn’t see him, she knew Luffy was out there, fighting with everything he had to save Alabasta. She could feel it, the unwavering strength and courage that defined him, and it gave her the strength to keep going, to hold on, no matter what.

Because they were the Straw Hat crew. And together, they would protect this land, and its people, no matter the cost.

[selmasemlan]

Epilogue

Summary: At the end of it all, it is all about the journey and the goal.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: Before the final chapter, let me just say how grateful I am for everyone reading this. This story is sooo special to me. I was coming out from a severely depressed period of my life, and this story had been living in my head rent-free for years now. So thank you so much, and I really hope y´all have enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Warning: none

Word count: 2088

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling manor that Luna and Marcel now called home. Situated in the heart of New Orleans, the home was filled with the scent of barbecued meats, fresh vegetables, and the distant sound of laughter. It was a typical summer evening, the kind that made the city come alive with warmth and joy.

Luna stood at the edge of the patio, her heart swelling with happiness as she watched her family and friends enjoying themselves. The backyard had been transformed into a lively gathering place, with long tables adorned in vibrant linens, twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, and children running around, their laughter ringing like sweet music in the evening air.

“Looks like we’ve got quite the party going,” Marcel said, coming up beside her. His deep voice was both comforting and exciting, sending a thrill through her. He leaned against the railing, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he crossed them over his chest.

Luna turned to him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t believe how far we’ve come. Look at everyone!”

Her gaze swept across the scene, taking in the sight of their loved ones. Damon and Bonnie stood together near the grill, exchanging playful banter as they debated the merits of grilling vegetables versus meats. Rebekah and Stefan were caught up in animated conversation, their smiles brightening the space as they shared little touches that spoke volumes of their engagement. Isaac and Davina, nestled close together, exchanged knowing glances and soft laughter, radiating a glow of new love.

“Look at Stiles and Caroline,” Marcel said, nodding toward the pair, who were busily corralling their kids. “They seem to be enjoying their time as parents.”

Luna chuckled softly, watching the way Stiles’s animated gestures drew laughter from the children, who were all racing around like wild animals. She smiled at the sight of Hope, now eight years old, acting like a little mom, ensuring Diego—her four-year-old son—didn’t get into too much trouble.

Marcel leaned in closer, brushing his lips against her temple. “You’re the one who made this happen, you know. You brought everyone together.”

Luna turned to him, her heart swelling with warmth. “We did this together. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Their lips met in a tender kiss, deepening as they lost themselves in the moment. The noise of the party faded around them, and all that mattered was the connection they shared. When they finally broke apart, Marcel held her close, his hand resting on her waist, their foreheads touching as they breathed each other in.

“I love this,” she whispered. “Everyone is here, and it’s so much fun. It feels… perfect.”

Marcel smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. “I’m glad you’re having fun, but I can’t wait until we leave this party. I have some plans for just the two of us later.”

Luna laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Marcel! Not in front of everyone!”

He grinned, pulling her tighter against him. “What can I say? You’re irresistible.”

Just then, Diego came barreling toward them, a small bundle of energy with wild curls bouncing with each step. “Mom! Dad!” he shouted, his face flushed with excitement.

As Diego reached them, Marcel bent down, scooping him up effortlessly and lifting him to eye level. “Hey there, little man! Having fun?”

Diego’s face lit up like a firework. “It’s the best day ever! We played tag, and I’m the fastest runner! Hope says I’m gonna win the race!”

He bounced in Marcel’s arms, his enthusiasm infectious. Luna couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with pride at their son’s vibrant spirit.

“Wow, a champion in the making!” Luna said, kneeling down to meet Diego’s gaze. “Are you having a great time with all your friends?”

“Uh-huh! And I got ice cream too!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with glee. “Can we have more ice cream later?”

“Of course! After dinner, we can have all the ice cream you want,” Luna promised, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Just make sure you save some for your dad. He loves ice cream too!”

Marcel chuckled, looking at Diego with pride. “You can’t eat it all, buddy! I need my share.”

“Okay!” Diego nodded vigorously, then turned back toward the party, his energy seeming to multiply as he ran off to join his friends again.

As Luna and Marcel watched him go, Luna felt a sense of fulfillment wash over her. This was everything she had ever wanted—a family, a home, and a community that embraced them. She leaned into Marcel, resting her head on his shoulder as they took in the scene together.

“I can’t believe how far we’ve come since I first arrived in New Orleans,” Luna said softly, her gaze drifting over the happy faces of their friends and family. “It’s incredible to see how everyone has grown and how we’ve all come together.”

Marcel smiled, his arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders. “It is. And to think, it all started with us taking a chance on us, together. Now we have our own little world.”

Their eyes met, and the bond between them felt palpable, a mix of history and love that had deepened over time. The laughter and conversations swirled around them, but in that moment, they were in their own bubble, completely absorbed in each other.

As they shared this moment, the sound of laughter grew louder, and Luna’s heart fluttered with joy. She caught sight of Bonnie and Damon raising their glasses in a toast, the warmth of their friendship wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

“Here’s to family!” Bonnie called out, her voice cutting through the noise. Everyone raised their glasses, cheers erupting from the group, and Luna felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

“I love you, moonlight,” Marcel said, breaking her reverie.

“I love you too, warrior,” Luna replied, her heart racing at the sound of those words. It was a term of endearment they had shared since the early days of their relationship, a reminder of the battles they had fought, by themselves and side by side.

As the evening wore on, children played under the watchful eyes of their parents, and friends shared stories that wove their lives together in an unbreakable bond. Luna and Marcel exchanged glances filled with love and gratitude, knowing they had created something extraordinary together.

Luna spotted Hope gently guiding Diego as they chased each other around a table. The other kids laughed and squealed, their carefree energy filling the air with a sense of pure joy. She felt a pang of warmth in her heart as she watched them—her son and the little girl who had become like family.

“You know, we should have more parties like this,” Marcel said, his eyes sparkling. “It feels good to have everyone around, celebrating together.”

“Absolutely,” Luna agreed, smiling. “We should make it a tradition.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in deep shades of purple and gold, Luna felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. This was her life now—full of laughter, love, and light.

Suddenly, the sound of Diego’s excited voice broke through her thoughts as he ran back to them, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “Mom! Dad! Can we go swimming after dinner? I want to splash in the pool!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Marcel said, grinning as he set Diego down. “But first, let’s eat!”

They made their way over to the grill, where food was being served. Luna helped herself to grilled vegetables and juicy meats, her heart full as she engaged with friends, laughter and chatter swirling around them.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow around them, Marcel leaned close to Luna, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You know, the view from here is much better with you by my side.”

“Cheesy,” she teased, but her heart swelled at his words.

They settled down at a long table filled with their friends and family, laughter ringing out as stories were shared. The clinking of glasses and the aroma of grilled food made the atmosphere feel even more festive.

“I can’t believe how fast Diego is growing up,” Bonnie said, watching as he interacted with the other kids. “He’s going to be a heartbreaker soon.”

Luna chuckled, glancing at Marcel. “Oh, he definitely has your charm, my love.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have his bad habits!” Damon retorted, rolling his eyes.

“I think he’ll be just fine,” Marcel said, chuckling. “He has Luna’s heart and determination.”

“And your good looks,” Luna added, grinning. “He’s got the best of both worlds.”

They all shared a laugh, and as the sun set, the atmosphere shifted from the day’s excitement to a more intimate gathering. Children grew tired, and adults began to share more personal stories, reminiscing about their past adventures.

As night fell, the fire pit was lit, and the warm glow illuminated their faces. The adults settled in, drinks in hand, while the children ran around, their laughter echoing against the night sky. Diego climbed into Luna’s lap, his small body warm and cuddly as he nestled against her.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” Luna asked, brushing a hand through his hair.

“A little,” he admitted, stifling a yawn. “But I don’t want to miss anything!”

“You won’t! Just close your eyes for a few minutes,” Marcel said, smiling down at him. “You can hear the stories from the grown-ups.”

“Okay,” Diego mumbled, his eyelids heavy.

As he drifted off to sleep in Luna’s arms, she felt a surge of love for her family wash over her. They were everything she had ever hoped for—a safe haven filled with laughter, love, and warmth.

Marcel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they shared a quiet moment, watching the flickering flames dance in the night air.

“This is everything, isn’t it?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It is,” she replied, her voice filled with emotion. “I’ve never been happier.”

As the stars began to twinkle above, illuminating the night sky, Luna felt a deep sense of peace. They had faced countless challenges and adversities together, but in this moment, surrounded by their loved ones, everything felt perfect.

The evening wore on, filled with shared stories, laughter, and plans for future adventures. The warmth of friendship wrapped around them like a comforting blanket, and as the fire crackled, Luna couldn’t help but think of all the memories they were creating together.

“Here’s to family, to love, and to new beginnings,” Marcel said, raising his glass high in the air, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Luna joined in, her heart swelling with pride and love for the life they had built together. “To family!”

As the clinking of glasses rang out, Luna felt that this was just the beginning of their story—a tale woven together with love, laughter, and the promise of tomorrow.

And she knew, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart, family to family.

Months passed, and the warmth of summer turned into the vibrant hues of autumn. The gatherings continued, each one growing larger and more joyous as their community expanded. Luna had become a beacon of hope and love in New Orleans, her home filled with laughter and the sounds of children’s play.

Marcel watched with pride as Luna thrived in this new chapter of their lives. She was not just his partner but the heart of their family, bringing people together and reminding them of the importance of love and connection.

One evening, as they prepared for another gathering, Luna turned to Marcel, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “What if we start a tradition? A yearly family retreat?”

Marcel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a weekend getaway?”

“Exactly! Somewhere we can all relax and bond as a family,” she suggested, her passion evident.

“I love it! Let’s make it happen,” he agreed, his heart swelling with love for her.

As they exchanged ideas and dreams for their future, Luna felt a renewed sense of purpose. Their journey had been filled with challenges, but they had emerged stronger, surrounded by love and friendship.

With each passing day, Luna knew they were creating a legacy—a legacy of love, strength, and resilience that would endure for generations to come. Together, they would continue to write their story, hand in hand, heart to heart, as family.

[selmasemlan]

Our future

Summary: The future is near, and Luna has some news to share

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: Almost done

Warning: none

Word count: 1189

Series Masterlist

Our future

The night was warm, a gentle breeze blowing through the open windows of the manor as Marcel sat in the candlelit room, waiting for Luna to return. It had been one of those evenings where the world seemed to hold its breath, calm and peaceful after years of chaos. Ever since they had united their forces, Klaus and Marcel had managed to restore balance in New Orleans, a balance that allowed Marcel and Luna to finally have the life they deserved together.

The sound of Luna’s soft footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing Marcel from his thoughts. His eyes lifted as she entered the room, her long, flowing gown swaying around her as she approached. Her smile was radiant, but there was something more—something in her eyes that gleamed with excitement and tenderness.

Marcel rose from his seat and met her halfway, his hands finding her waist instinctively. “You look happy,” he said, his voice low and full of affection.

Luna tilted her head, that secretive smile deepening. “I have news,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling. “Something... wonderful.”

Marcel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? What is it?” he asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her soft skin.

Luna took a deep breath, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She had thought of so many ways to tell him, but in this moment, all she could do was speak from her heart. “Marcel,” she began, placing her hand over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, “I figured it out. I found a way… for us to have a child.”

Marcel’s eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, the weight of her words sinking in. “You… you figured it out?” he whispered, his voice laced with awe. His hand moved to cover hers on his chest, squeezing gently. “You mean… we can—?”

Luna nodded, her smile growing as tears of joy welled in her eyes. “Yes, Marcel. We can have a family. I’m pregnant.”

The room seemed to still, the air between them thick with emotion. Marcel blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. “Pregnant?” he repeated, as though trying to grasp the reality of it. And then, all at once, the joy hit him like a tidal wave. A wide, disbelieving smile spread across his face as he pulled Luna into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle.

Luna laughed, the sound full of pure happiness as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. “I’m going to be a father,” Marcel breathed, his voice rough with emotion as he set her down but kept her close, his forehead resting against hers. “Luna… you have no idea what this means to me. You’re my everything.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, her touch soft and full of love. “You’re my everything, too, Marcel,” she whispered. “You always have been.”

Marcel pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his expression turning serious but full of wonder. “You’re my soulmate, my queen,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “My very heart, Luna. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible. And now… now we get to start a family together. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Luna’s eyes softened as she cupped his face, her thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones. “We’re lucky because we found each other,” she murmured. “And no matter what we’ve been through, we’ve always come out stronger together.”

Their lips met again, the kiss slow and tender, full of the weight of their shared history, their love, and the future they were about to embark on together. Marcel’s hands slid down to her hips, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, the fire between them igniting with a passion that had always burned just beneath the surface.

He pulled away slightly, his breath coming out in soft pants as he gazed down at her. “I can’t believe we’re going to have a baby,” he said, his voice hushed with amazement. “I can’t wait to see you as a mother.”

Luna’s eyes glistened with tears as she smiled up at him. “I can’t wait to see you as a father.”

Marcel’s fingers traced the curve of her jaw, down her neck, and along her collarbone, his touch soft but filled with desire. “We’ve been through so much,” he murmured, his voice growing huskier. “But this… this is the beginning of something beautiful.”

Luna shivered under his touch, her breath hitching as his hands explored her, the warmth of his skin against hers sending sparks of electricity through her. She had always felt this pull toward him, this undeniable connection that went beyond love—it was as though they were two halves of the same soul, destined to be together.

“I want you,” Luna whispered, her voice trembling with the depth of her emotions. “I want you, Marcel. Now and forever.”

Marcel’s eyes darkened with desire, but there was a tenderness there too, a deep reverence for the woman in his arms. “I’m yours, Luna,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her temple, and finally her lips, lingering there for a moment. “I’ve always been yours.”

The two of them moved as one, the world outside forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows on the walls, the gentle breeze from the open windows carrying with it the scent of jasmine from the garden below. Marcel’s hands were firm but loving as they explored her body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulders, each touch a reminder of the love they shared.

Luna’s breath hitched as Marcel’s hands found the small swell of her stomach, his fingers tracing the outline of the life growing inside her. “Our baby,” he whispered, his voice full of awe. “Our future.”

Her heart swelled with love as she gazed down at him, her hands threading through his hair as he kissed the spot just below her belly. “Our family,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and our little one.”

Marcel rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers as he cupped her face in his hands. “You’re my home, Luna. You always have been.”

Their lips met once more, the kiss soft and unhurried, a promise of the life they would build together. In that moment, there was no war, no chaos—just the two of them, bound by love and a future that was finally within their grasp.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the stars twinkling overhead and the night stretching out before them, Marcel whispered against her lips, “I love you, Luna.”

Luna smiled, her heart full to bursting as she whispered back, “I love you too, Marcel.”

And in that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, their love, and the new life they were bringing into the world together.

[selmasemlan]

Family Dinner Surprise

Summary: Family dinners are always fun, but you can always have more fun

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: I am about to cryyyyy

Warning: none

Word count: 960

Series Masterlist

Family Dinner Surprise

The summer sun cast a warm, golden hue over the Salvatore manor in New Orleans. Laughter and the scent of grilling food filled the backyard as Damon, Stefan, Luna, Marcel, Bonnie, Rebekah, Stiles, Caroline, Isaac, and Davina enjoyed a family dinner. The backyard, with its inviting sitting area and barbecue setup, was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses and joyful chatter.

Inside the kitchen, Marcel and Luna shared a tender moment. Marcel's arms encircled Luna's waist, pulling her close as their lips met in a soft, loving kiss. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice Damon until he cleared his throat.

"Get a room, you two," Damon said sarcastically, though his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Luna and Marcel broke apart, laughing. "Just getting the food ready," Marcel replied, his hand lingering on Luna's back.

Damon leaned against the counter, looking at Luna. "Do you have the thing?"

Luna smiled knowingly. "Of course I have it." She winked, and they left it at that, moving back to their preparations.

As the evening progressed, the group gathered around the long table set up in the backyard. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the scene. Damon, seated next to Bonnie, rose from his chair and tapped his glass lightly with a knife, drawing everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone, settle down," Damon began, his voice carrying a mix of humor and sincerity. "It's amazing to see us all together like this. We've been through a lot, but we always come out on top."

He paused, glancing around the table at the faces of those he considered family. "But tonight, we have a special surprise." He nodded at Luna.

Luna reached into her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Damon and sat back down, her heart pounding with anticipation. Marcel wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

Damon unfolded the paper and handed it to Isaac, who took it with a puzzled expression. The table fell silent as Isaac read the document. His eyes widened, and a disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips. "It says you've adopted me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rebekah and Caroline gasped with delight, and Davina squeezed Isaac's shoulder in support. Isaac looked up, meeting Luna's tear-filled eyes. She nodded, her emotions spilling over.

"Why?" Isaac's voice cracked, his vulnerability laid bare.

Luna's voice trembled as she responded, "Why not? You're my brother, and you always have been. It's not fair to leave you alone." Tears streamed down her face.

Isaac, still in shock, looked at his newly official family. Damon and Stefan each placed a hand on his shoulders, welcoming him warmly.

"Welcome to the family," they said in unison.

Isaac stood up, and Luna rushed to embrace him. They held each other tightly, tears mingling with smiles. Isaac whispered in her ear, "I'm not sure I deserve this."

Luna hugged him even tighter. "You deserve this and so much more, big brother."

As they pulled apart, Stiles stood behind them, arms wide open. "Come on, you get a free hug."

Isaac rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Shut up, as if I want your hug." But he stepped into Stiles' embrace nonetheless.

Caroline joined in, wrapping her arms around both Isaac and Stiles. "You guys are so sappy," she teased, her eyes shining with happiness. Rebekah, not one to be left out, joined the group hug, her laughter bright and infectious.

Davina, her eyes moist with unshed tears, walked up to Isaac and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Bonnie, standing beside Damon, wiped away a tear and nodded approvingly. "This is perfect," she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. Damon, ever the sarcastic one, couldn't resist adding, "Alright, enough with the waterworks. Let's celebrate!"

Stefan, with his arm around Rebekah, smiled broadly. "To family," he toasted, raising his glass. Everyone followed suit, clinking their glasses together in a heartfelt salute.

The evening continued with a renewed sense of unity and love. The family, now complete with Isaac's official inclusion, celebrated under the summer sky, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

Later that evening, as the celebration wound down and the group began to disperse, Luna and Marcel found themselves alone in the kitchen once more. Marcel stood behind Luna, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if savoring the moment.

"You did a wonderful thing tonight," he murmured against her hair.

Luna turned in his arms, looking up at him with eyes full of love and gratitude. "We did a wonderful thing," she corrected softly, reaching up to kiss him. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, a promise of the future they were building together.

As they pulled apart, Marcel rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, Luna," he whispered, his voice filled with conviction and tenderness.

Luna smiled, her heart swelling with happiness. "I love you too, Marcel."

They stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, feeling the warmth and security of their love. The soft hum of New Orleans at night, coupled with the faint laughter of their friends and family outside, created a perfect backdrop for their moment of quiet contentment.

In that intimate embrace, amidst the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows, Luna and Marcel knew they had found something truly special. Surrounded by love and friendship, their bond was stronger than ever, ready to face whatever the future held.

[selmasemlan]

A Night of Possibilities

Summary: Marcel has a question to ask and needs an answer

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: THE MOMENT WE HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

Warning: none

Word count: 1690

Series Masterlist

A Night of Possibilities

The evening air in New Orleans was warm and fragrant, infused with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and the earthy aroma of the bayou. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the Mikaelson mansion, where the sounds of laughter and music flowed from the open doors, spilling into the night like a vibrant melody. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, illuminating the faces of friends and family gathered to celebrate a rare moment of joy in their tumultuous lives.

Marcel stood on the balcony, leaning against the ornate railing, a drink in hand but hardly touched. His gaze was locked on Luna, who was animatedly laughing with Camila, her joy radiant and infectious. The way she tossed her hair back, the light catching in the strands, made her look almost ethereal, like a goddess gracing them with her presence. In that moment, Marcel’s heart swelled, not just with love but with a sense of profound happiness.

Yet, beneath the surface of that happiness lay a flutter of nerves, twisting in his stomach like a restless creature. Tonight felt different—he had been contemplating a momentous decision, one that filled him with both excitement and trepidation. He wanted to ask Luna to be his forever, to take that leap into the unknown. The thought sent his mind racing, each beat of his heart echoing the weight of his intentions.

Just then, Klaus sauntered up to him, a teasing smirk plastered across his face. “You look like a man about to jump off a cliff, Marcel. What’s on your mind?”

Marcel sighed, glancing at Klaus, whose demeanor was typically so self-assured. “Actually, I was thinking of asking Luna to marry me.”

Klaus burst into laughter, shaking his head, his dark hair catching the glimmer of the setting sun. “Oh, is that all? You do know that I’m not married, right? My track record isn't exactly stellar.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, Klaus,” Marcel replied dryly, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

Camila, who had been nearby, overheard their banter and joined in, placing a reassuring hand on Marcel's shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Marcel. I’ve never seen a more healthy relationship than yours and Luna’s. And that’s coming from someone with a psychology degree!”

Marcel chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You really think so? I mean, I’ve never felt like I could be myself like I do with her. Everything feels… easier, even when it’s hard.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, an approving smile creeping onto his face. “You’ve got your answers right there. Just don’t blame me if you end up on a first-name basis with your divorce lawyer.”

Marcel nudged Klaus playfully, feeling a sense of camaraderie swell between them. “Shut up, man. This is serious.”

As the night wore on, the celebration continued, filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with joy as friends shared stories of battles fought and victories won, their bonds stronger than ever. Yet, in the back of Marcel’s mind, the moment of truth loomed, a shadow that both excited and terrified him.

When the festivities began to wind down, Marcel took a deep breath and led Luna to the balcony, the night sky stretching above them like a vast canvas dotted with stars. The gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying the sounds of laughter from the party inside. For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, taking in the beauty around them.

“We can finally breathe,” Luna said softly, her voice laced with contentment as she gazed up at the twinkling sky. Marcel nodded in agreement, a warmth blooming in his chest as he admired her. She looked peaceful, her features softened by the glow of the moonlight. In that moment, all his doubts faded, replaced by a fierce determination.

As Luna turned to face him, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Marcel?” she called, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took a step back, trying to gather his thoughts and muster his courage. The ring box felt heavy in his pocket, almost like a stone weighing him down.

“Marcel?” she repeated, her tone more urgent now, and when she turned around to see him on one knee, her gasp echoed through the night like the sweetest music.

“Marcel!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

With trembling hands, he opened the box, revealing a simple yet elegant ring that sparkled in the moonlight—a perfect representation of their journey together. “From the moment we met, I knew you were special. You’ve been my home, Luna. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”

Tears of joy welled up in her eyes, shimmering like stars, and a smile broke across her face, radiant and blinding. “Yes! Yes, of course, I will!”

Before he could fully stand, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace, her laughter mingling with the sound of the night. He spun her around, both of them enveloped in a whirlwind of joy and disbelief. They were in their own world, where nothing else mattered but each other.

Marcel pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “You’re going to be my wife. Can you believe it?”

“I can’t believe you actually asked!” Luna teased, her eyes sparkling with delight. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Good! That was the plan,” he said playfully, feeling lighter than air. “I figured if I didn’t do it now, I’d lose my nerve.”

As they finally pulled apart, Klaus leaned against the doorway, a wide grin stretching across his face. “To the future Mr. and Mrs. Gerard! May your love be as chaotic as this city!”

Luna laughed, wiping away tears of joy. “Oh, you’re just jealous you didn’t get the chance to propose first!”

Klaus feigned a look of betrayal, clutching his heart dramatically. “How could you? I thought we had something special!”

Marcel rolled his eyes, laughing along with Luna. “What are you going to do next? Write a heartbreak ballad?”

“Oh, don’t give him ideas,” Luna said, shaking her head, her laughter echoing in the warm night air. “I can already picture it—a tragic tale of lost love, featuring a dashing yet hopelessly single vampire!”

As they continued to revel in the moment, Marcel felt a profound sense of belonging wash over him. They were a family, a ragtag group of misfits who had weathered storms together, and now they were standing on the precipice of a new chapter.

Later that evening, Marcel led Luna to a more secluded part of the balcony, where they could have a moment of peace away from the festivities. The stars twinkled overhead, and the soft sounds of the celebration faded into the background. The atmosphere felt charged, as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for something magical to unfold.

Luna turned to him, her eyes filled with wonder. “What are you thinking about?”

Marcel smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Just how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make everything better.”

She grinned, leaning against the railing, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “It’s kind of beautiful out here, isn’t it? Like the universe is celebrating with us.”

“Definitely,” he said, leaning closer. “But I think it’s more beautiful with you here.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, a smile dancing on her lips. “Smooth talker, aren’t you?”

“I try,” he said, feigning nonchalance, but inside, his heart raced. He had never felt this way about anyone before—completely vulnerable yet utterly at ease.

As they shared playful banter, Marcel’s thoughts returned to the ring in his pocket. He wanted to savor this moment, to imprint it in his memory. The world around them felt like a dream—a kaleidoscope of colors, laughter, and love.

“Marcel, can I ask you something?” Luna said, her expression suddenly serious.

“Of course,” he replied, concerned by the shift in her tone. “What’s on your mind?”

“What if things get hard again? What if—”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, taking her hands in his. “We’ve been through hell and back together, and we’re still standing. Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You always know what to say.”

“That’s because I know you,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re my heart, Luna. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Before she could respond, a group of their family stumbled onto the balcony, laughter spilling into the night like sparkling champagne. They were wrapped up in their own revelry, oblivious to the intimacy of the moment Marcel and Luna had just shared.

“Hey! What are you two lovebirds doing out here?” Damon called, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Just admiring the view,” Marcel said, exchanging a knowing glance with Luna, their private moment momentarily interrupted but not ruined.

“Don’t keep all the fun to yourselves! Come on, join the party!” Isaac urged, tugging at Luna’s arm playfully.

With a reluctant smile, Luna turned to Marcel. “You ready to get back in there?”

“Always,” he replied, feeling the excitement surge through him again. As they returned to the festivities, hand in hand, Marcel couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of their journey together.

The celebration continued long into the night, filled with laughter, music, and the promise of a bright future. As the clock struck midnight, Luna found herself standing beside Marcel, surrounded by friends and family, all raising their glasses in a toast to the couple.

“To love, laughter, and happily ever after!” they cheered, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus.

Luna looked up at Marcel, her heart bursting with love and joy. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered.

Marcel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’re just getting started.”

And as the night wrapped around them like a warm embrace, Luna knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by love and unwavering commitment.

[selmasemlan]

what doesn't kill you // masterlist

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

✧ ongoing. aged up au. bnha ✧

prologue

✧ part 1

✧ part 2

✧ part 3

✧ part 4

✧ part 5

✧ part 6

✧ part 7

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien @thefirst-ofus @harryzcherry @xoxoblueyy @moonz33 @lotusstarr @dragonscribble @3ve88 @thatgrlnany @shortie-chocolate @astolary @dreamybabbyy @ditzy-kie

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc @stabbygabyy @frosted-flakes @didibanini

[selmasemlan]

Sooo let's say a couple that is engaged have a fight. The man does something so stupid they have a screaming argument out on the street. It's during the night, so the screams eco cross the street. The neighbourhood that was asleep, slowly wakes up. The woman has enough and tell the man that if he doesn't get his shit together she will leave.

Personally, throwing the ring? The guy had to have done something so stupid that she loses her trust in him, which means engagement is over, and it will take more than just a few days or weeks for me to trust you. Like the guy needed a reality check or had fear put into him. The ring thrown at him means "if you don't change, then this is over"

Keeping the ring? Still trust the idiot. He just needed a nudge. She still has a lot of hope for him and them

What's y'all thoughts about this?

[selmasemlan]

How you met.

Rafe Cameron x fem reader.

You walk in on John B, your long term boyfriend cheating on you with Sarah Cameron. His soulmate. So to seek revenge, you talk to her older brother Rafe who has a couple of conditions. One of them including access to the most intimate part of you. But you’re not worried. It’s not like anything serious will happen, right?

Requested by @bloodibambiidoll I hope you enjoy babe.

Warnings! Soulmate AU, new series, fake dating, oral fem receiving, canon Rafe attitude. Aesthetic of reader is very girly and picture is just based on my own hair but description isn’t in fic as always.

Being cheated on by your long term boyfriend was hard enough, losing a friend group was another heartbreak.

John B and you had been together since you’d graduated high school. After you moved here from a small town in the south during your sophomore year. You stuck out like a sore thumb with your hyper feminine clothing and routine.

You carried around a purse with the essentials, wallet, phone, taser and lipstick. You were a senior in college now, going for law school and you had come to your shared apartment with a gift for John B. Grinning, you opened the door but the box fell out of your hold at the sight of him laying on the floor naked with Sarah Cameron.

Your face dropped and they both scrambled to cover up. You stood in silence for a few seconds before John B began babbling words,

“It just happened, I didn’t know she was my soulmate, it just appeared and I was going to tell you tonight-“

That fucking unfortunate information sent you into a rage. You screamed, threw things, even chased after John B with your purse until you managed to calm down. The tears sprang on but you willed yourself to leave. He offered to move out but you couldn’t accept.

It held too many memories so here you were. Crying while shoving a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, looking at your old friend group with John B and Sarah Cameron. It was a self destructive path, to doom scroll and torture yourself with the photos of them showing their tattoos.

The soulmate bond was uncontrollable. Once the connection was formed, matching tattoos appeared on your ring fingers. The image itself was the moon cycle when the bond sealed. This phenomenon was ancient. Viewed as old school, disregarded even here in the outer banks. You had been with John B and the Pogues so long, it didn’t matter to you that the official bond didn’t come.

You isolated yourself in your childhood bedroom at your parent’s home. They were on vacation, celebrating their anniversary so you couldn’t even have their comfort during the breakup. Sniffling, you flipped over on your side and curl into a ball.

Fuck him, you thought angrily. He couldn’t have had the decency to break it off. Tell you before betraying the history you had together. Sarah Cameron was the middle child of a family as close to royalty as they came here. She was known to rebel against her Kook father and step mother as she graduated high school years ago. You never were friends, friendly at best if you ran into her after leaving your shift as a barista.

He couldn’t get away with this. Neither could the Pogues choosing his side and excluding you. Your jaw set as you stared at the wall, an idea forming. It was extremely petty. Risky and could lead to a dramatic fall out. However, if it was done right, it would be satisfying.

You felt like a fish out of water. Wearing a light colored dress, makeup applied and hair up as you approached your target. Rafe Cameron.

He was the oldest of the Cameron’s, a few years above you with a bad reputation. Bad temper, abrasive personality and instilled fear into many. However, one thing he was, a smart businessman.

While your parents were Pogues, your grandparents were Kooks. Making your childhood and teenage years a little less harsh than your old friends. You got invited to some parties, had some level of respect that other Pogues didn’t.

This made you feel a little more confident to give Rafe the proposal you had in mind as you strutted forward. He came to an expensive Brunch spot in between meetings with his laptop. Mostly because he wasn’t allowed to yell in a public place without consequences.

You hadn’t seen him in person in a while and he didn’t post a lot of photographs of himself. His buzzcut a new accessory and he wore casual clothes. Rafe typed away, not noticing you until you stopped at his table.

His brows furrowed at your shadow and then his blue eyes lifted. Rafe sat back a little, a ghost of a smirk curling his lip and he scanned you. Openly checking you out and his gaze lingered on your exposed skin.

“Hey,” He said your name with a nod and you cleared your throat. You couldn’t lose your nerve now.

“Hey. Do you have a minute? Can I talk to you?” You ripped the bandaid off and Rafe glanced at his computer.

“Yeah, I can talk for a bit.” He shut the laptop, gesturing expectantly at the chair across from him for you to sit.

You sat down, back straight and set your hands on the table. Fingers splayed and he glanced at them. He noticed the bare skin, no tattoo.

“I’m assuming this is about John B.” Rafe offered and you winced. “Yeah, heard you uh, really freaked out.” he had laughter in his voice and you glared at him.

“He deserved it. So did your little sister.” Rafe didn’t seem to care for that but you pressed on, “And he shouldn’t get away unscathed. Neither of them should.”

Rafe hummed and leaned forward. Elbows on the table and exposing his muscles. He waved his hand, encouraging you to finish. “Well? Spit it out.”

“What if we pretend to date?” You said quickly, “Just to get under their skin. They all dropped me and I want them to see I’m doing good. Better than good. With the person they hate.”

Rafe snorted and then openly laughed. He smoothed his hand over his face and your jaw tightened.

“I’m glad you think this is funny because I don’t. I walked in on the man I love fucking your sister and you think that’s entertaining?” Your voice was raising and Rafe shushed you.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

You perked up, tilting your head but he held up a hand.

“But there’s gonna be conditions.” He declared and you sank into the chair. “Don’t pout. You don’t even know what they are.”

You kept quiet as Rafe assessed you with a hint of curiosity. “Conditions are, this is just pretend, don’t get attached to me,” the roll of your eyes did nothing to halt his sentence, “We don’t embarrass each other and lastly, I’m not doing this as a just a favor.”

You held your breath, waiting and Rafe brushed his nose with the knuckle of his finger.

“I get to taste you. At least one time.”

Sighing, you snorted. “That’s it? You want to kiss me?”

Rafe blinked at you in a condescending way. “No. I don’t kiss someone unless I like them. Maybe. I mean taste your pussy.”

Your glossy lips parted and hackles raised on the back of your neck. You didn’t immediately answer. Was it unreasonable? Not necessarily. It wasn’t like he mentioned actually fucking you. It was rude. But this was Rafe Cameron. You were asking him to help you with ridiculous revenge and if you got to cum once out of it, then you could live with that.

“Why that specifically? I’d expect you to want a blow job.”

Rafe exhaled and for the first time, he lost a glint of confidence but it returned just as quickly. “I like to be in control. And you’d be getting your pussy eaten, so why the hesitation?”

It wasn’t much of an answer but you decided your fate. Extending your hand, fingers decorated with delicate rings and Rafe met your grip. Shaking it firmly.

“Deal.”

“Good. Luck would have it, I could use a guest at the grand opening of a new business tonight. I’ll pick you up at five. We can take a picture together. Post it and all that shit girls do.”You let go of his hand with a gasp. It was already noon.

“What? That’s not enough time to get ready!” Rafe opened his laptop again, continuing whatever he was doing previously. “Better get going then.”

Growling in the back of your throat, you stomped away. You hoped John B and the crew regretted it as soon as possible because you couldn’t deal with the insufferable man long.

You were a half step from throwing a full tantrum when you rushed out of the house. Normally you had days in advance to prepare for an event. It took you almost forty minutes to pick an outfit. You hopped around on one foot as you slipped on a different pair of heels and Rafe opened the passenger door from the inside.

His blue eyes were light with amusement and he gave you an appreciative once over. “It’s a grand reveal of a business. Didn’t know you needed a ballgown for that.”

You snarled and slammed the door shut after landing in a heap in the seat.

“Hey, watch the door. This car was fucking expensive.” Rafe hissed but you rolled your eyes and turned your body away from him.

“I’m sure you have another one,” You looked at your pink polish on manicured fingernails. Rafe reached over and turned up his music. You made a face of distain and he snorted.

“What? What sort of awful pop music do you listen to?”

“Oh? Making assumptions are we?” You perked up and Rafe nodded before handing you his phone.

“Play something then if it keeps you from breaking my car.” You make a face at him and select a song from one of your favorite bands.

Rafe jolted slightly at the sound of explosive metal playing, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and fear. You crossed your legs and sighed in contentment.

“You’re kidding. Bubblegum princess likes screamo?” You nod along and mouth the lyrics, ignoring his little comment. Rafe doesn’t turn it off but keeps driving.

Minutes after a car ride of loud music and awkward tension, Rafe gets out of the car and you gather the material of your dress. He opens the side door, extending a hand while glancing at your heels.

“Shall we?” Accepting, Rafe sets his hand on your lower back, slowing his pace to match you as you enter the modern building. Big windows, clean smells, sharp cut designs and workers carrying trays of small portioned food. Glasses of alcohol and men wearing suits looking skeptical over the shine of the floor.

Everyone turned to look at you both stepping inside. Focusing on his contact on your body but they quickly shifted into greetings. No doubt to keep their positions. You plastered on pleasant listening expressions and let Rafe do all the talking.

You accepted a glass of champagne to keep yourself occupied as the time went on. Rafe knew his work well. You’d never heard him sound so sure of himself.

When he wasn’t occupied, you pulled out your phone. Opening the camera and picking out your favorite filter. Rafe gave his typical selfie face, bending down slightly to meet you more comfortably but you scowled and turned to him.

“If this is gonna work, you have to look like you like me.” Rafe remained still for a few seconds and then dipped down to press a kiss to your cheek. You quickly reached back up to snap the moment and made yourself remain calm as Rafe wrapped his muscular arms around your waist, tugging you close to him.

You took a couple of photos, feeling your skin on fire as he pulled away. His lips faintly covered in blush makeup. “We good?”

You looked at the selfies, mildly impressed at how genuine they looked and you noticed how Rafe had the smallest smile as he kissed your cheek.

“Yeah. Those look good. Thank you. I’m gonna post them.” You began uploading them on instagram and Rafe waited until they finished loading. He set his hand on your phone.

“Time for your end of the deal when this is over and I take you home.” You gulped but resigned. You agreed and fair was fair.

You made yourself keep your phone off until you were safe in your room. Rafe played his ridiculous fuck boy music as he drove you home and you pressed both thighs together tightly. You were nervous. Unsure why though. Rafe was hot and you were fully benefiting from this but it was the idea of eating your pussy was his reward. Sure, John B seemed to like it but never asked for it. You tapped your fingers along the beat of the song as he pulled into the driveway and shut it off.

You opened your legs, pulling up your dress and Rafe seized your knee. Squeezing firmly.

“Hold on. I’m gonna take you inside at least. I’m not a complete asshole.”

“Just get it over with.” You spoke and kept your eyes on the garage door. He caught your chin between his fingers, turning your head towards him.

“Nah, we’re gonna do it my way and it’s the right way. Besides, we wouldn’t be comfortable in my car. I’m too tall.”

“Brag much?” You glanced anywhere but his eyes and Rafe clicked his tongue.

“Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart. Show me inside like you have some manners.”

You carried your heels as you walked ahead, letting Rafe in your childhood home and into your bedroom. He looked around, lifting things up and started to open drawers.

You smacked his hand. “Stop it. Don’t mess anything up.”

Rafe caught your wrist, lightly tossing you to the bed and you squeaked as he mounted you. He had taken off his suit jacket but left everything else on. The look in his eyes held lust and a primal energy that had you breathless. His warm rough palms were heavy as he lifted your dress, admiring the curves of your hips and legs. Rafe ran his fingers along the material of your panties, smirking at the dampness growing in the center and he nudged your legs wider.

“You wanna know why I really wanna do this?” Even though it was a question, you didn’t answer and just stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Because I want you to know what whatever John B did with his cock is pathetic compared to me. I can make you cum harder with just my mouth than anything he ever did.”

Rafe grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, slapping his hands in your inner thighs and you gasped. Overwhelmed by his words and actions you were too distracted to protest.

He pulled your panties to the side, aggressively pinning your legs down with his forearms but he surprised you with his gentle way of kissing your pelvis. You whimpered, nipples hardening as he worked his way down and opened his mouth when he reached your pussy.

Rafe groaned, inhaling deeply so he could enjoy the smell of you and starting messily making out with your cunt. Your breathing was sharp, hands instinctively reaching for his head as he spread you even further and sucked your clit between his lips.

He wasn’t shy at all, his sharp jawline bumping your ass as Rafe licked the underside of your clit after lightly nipping. Your back arched and you started humping his face.

He curved his mouth so he could press his tongue inside you, moving his head to get every angle and you were closer to the edge faster than ever.

You were moaning, high pitched desperate sounds and the bed shifted under you. Lifting your head, your eyes were glassy as you saw Rafe palming his bulge and thrusting into his hand as he savored your pussy.

You hadn’t been touched like this in a while. Even before walking in to the sight of John B cheating on you, he had neglected you. Not paying attention to the ways you left yourself open for his touch.

Your ex boyfriend was soft whenever you were intimate. Never showing an ounce of roughness or dominance. Unlike Rafe, who was both of those things even when he was on his knees for you.

Your orgasm came like a storm, pulling you into bliss as a wail escaped you. Your hands were scrambling to put his free one on your tit, guiding him to squeeze it as he licked you through it.

Your entire body twitched as he didn’t stop but his own sounds of pleasure echoing through your room as Rafe came in his pants. Your eyes squeezed shut and he slowly lifted his skull. His mouth and chin were dripping with your slick.

Rafe’s eyes were hazy and you prepared for his quick departure but he crawled over you and slammed his lips to yours in a kiss. His fingers held your chin and his soft lips moved with yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing and your arms around his broad shoulders.

He met your tongue, sucking it into his mouth and then your lower lip. You tasted yourself and Rafe’s hand drifted to your back. He held you close to him with a new level of…tenderness.

Rafe broke away, sucking in gulps of air and brushed his knuckle against your cheek.

You both made a sound of pain and he shifted off of you. It was a pinch, deep to the bone of your ring finger. It ended just as quickly as it came on and you both looked at your hands.

There were matching moons. The cycle of when the bond forms.

You felt the air knock out of you. Despite the fucked out appearance of your messed up dress, panties to the side and bruised lips.

Your gazes met each others.

“No fucking way.”

Rafe Cameron was your soulmate.

Tagging @cxrrodedcoffin @marchsfreakshow @starkeysprincess @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @redhead1180 @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker @that-sarcastic-writer @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @userchai @dirtylittlefairytales

[selmasemlan]

A Family United

Summary: After everything, the family is finally united and all is good and well

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: the end of this arc and we are getting closer to the end

Warning: none

Word count: 1000

Series Masterlist

A Family United

The door to the loft creaked open, and Luna stepped inside first, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the familiar faces gathered around. Stiles and Isaac were the first to move, rushing toward her as though the air itself had been holding its breath. Before she could say a word, they enveloped her in a tight, almost desperate hug, their arms warm and solid around her.

“Luna!” Stiles whispered fiercely, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, I don’t think I could breathe until I saw you walk in here.”

Isaac, equally relieved, didn’t let go, his grip protective, as though afraid she might slip away again. Luna’s eyes closed for a moment, savoring the comfort of their familiar embrace, the chaos of the past hours settling just a little.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, her voice just above a whisper. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

Marcel followed her in, his gaze softening the moment he saw Davina. Without hesitation, she crossed the room, her arms open wide, and wrapped him up in a hug so tight it almost took him by surprise. His arms circled her without thinking, the weight of everything lifting just a little. He had never realized how much he needed this.

“Marcel,” she said against his chest, voice muffled but full of relief. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

He tightened his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry. I never should have put you through that.”

Before Davina could respond, a voice broke through the quiet tension.

“Careful, Marcel,” a teasing voice rang out. “You’re making me jealous over here.”

Marcel turned just in time to see Camilla crossing the room toward Klaus, her arms outstretched. Klaus didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a tight, protective hug. He held her close, his gaze meeting Marcel’s for a brief moment, the weight of everything shared between them in that silent exchange.

“Don’t start, Camilla,” Klaus said with a light chuckle, though his eyes were as tired as anyone’s. “I’ve just made it through an emotional rollercoaster. Can’t be dealing with jealousy on top of everything else.”

The tension in the room shifted, subtle but undeniable, as Luna finally stepped away from Stiles and Isaac. She stood by Marcel, her heart still racing from the intensity of everything, but now, here, in this moment, surrounded by the people she loved, she could finally exhale.

That’s when Marcel noticed Damon. He was standing quietly behind him, and in one swift motion, Damon was there, pulling him into a warm, firm hug. Marcel stiffened at first, then melted into it, letting Damon’s embrace ground him.

“You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you look,” Damon muttered, his voice tinged with amusement but the sincerity clear. “I wouldn’t want to be Elijah right now.”

“Yeah,” Marcel said with a dry chuckle, pulling back slightly to meet Damon’s eyes. “I’m glad we’re all still standing after that.”

Luna and Davina moved toward the loveseat, taking a seat next to each other. Bonnie joined them soon after, her eyes filled with gratitude as she settled on the other side of Luna. The three of them exchanged a quiet smile, the silence between them one of understanding.

As everyone slowly found their places, the living room was filled with bodies, all of them trying to fit into the small space, seeking solace in the closeness. Stiles and Isaac settled onto the floor next to Luna and Marcel’s legs, their proximity a silent reassurance. Klaus and Camilla sat beside them, their fingers entwined, offering support in the unspoken way they did best.

Stefan and Rebekah found a plush chair, side by side, with Stefan’s hand resting on her shoulder, as though silently assuring her they had made it through together. The space was cramped but warm, every inch of it brimming with life and connection.

Marcel held Luna tightly to his side, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling of relief that washed over him, as if this moment, right here, was the only thing that mattered. She was safe. They were all safe. And no matter what had happened tonight, they had each other.

Luna’s hand found his, her fingers interlocking with his. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her voice shaky with the weight of everything they had just survived.

“You’re my world, Luna,” Marcel replied, his voice low but unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The others watched, their expressions soft with understanding. They had all been through their own trials, and tonight had been a reminder that no matter the chaos around them, this was what they could count on: family.

Bonnie smiled across the room at them, her eyes glinting with something close to contentment. “It’s good to see everyone safe and together again,” she said softly, her gaze shifting to Damon beside her.

Damon’s lips twitched in a faint grin. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his tone still a little wry, but the warmth behind his words undeniable.

Rebekah looked at Klaus, her eyes filled with something unspoken, but Klaus met her gaze with a nod. He, too, was trying to absorb the weight of the moment—the sense of relief, the love that filled this room, a love that hadn’t been destroyed by the trials they’d faced.

“This,” Klaus said quietly, his voice almost a whisper as he glanced at each of them, “this is all that matters now.”

Marcel’s hand found Luna’s again, tightening around her fingers. “Family,” he echoed softly. “Nothing will tear us apart.”

The sound of shared laughter, quiet murmurs, and the comfort of familiar voices filled the air, the tensions of the night finally giving way to peace. For the first time in what felt like forever, they were together—united by love, bound by loyalty, and stronger for having survived everything that had come before.

This was their family. And nothing could ever change that.

[selmasemlan]

Trouble in Paradise

Summary: Our favourite family goes on a family vacation together.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: Found family is the best

Warning: none

Word count: 4043

Series Masterlist

Trouble in Paradise

The Bahamas greeted the Salvatore brothers and the troublesome trio with warm sunlight, crystal-clear waters, and an endless expanse of blue sky. The salty breeze carried the sound of waves lapping gently against the shore, and the tropical paradise stretched before them like a dream.

Stiles was the first to break the silence, throwing his arms up dramatically. “This is amazing! Look at this! We’re in literal paradise!” His voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

Isaac, standing next to him with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, nodded enthusiastically. “Right? The Bahamas! This is the stuff they put on postcards! And we’re actually here.”

Damon, ever the cool older brother, smirked and leaned in to nudge Stefan with his elbow. “So, little brother, how long until you start brooding about something? Five minutes? Ten?”

Stefan rolled his eyes, brushing Damon off with a light chuckle. “Not today, Damon. Even I can enjoy this.”

Luna stood a little apart from them, her phone out as she captured the breathtaking view. The sunlight danced on the water, and the way the sky melted into the horizon was too perfect not to photograph. She turned the camera toward her brothers and smiled as she snapped a candid shot of them all.

“You better not post that anywhere,” Damon warned, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Don’t worry, it’s for the scrapbook,” Luna teased, holding up her phone as if to take another picture.

“Scrapbook?” Stiles turned to her with mock horror. “Luna, we’re in the Bahamas, not a retirement home.”

Luna just laughed, shaking her head. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

Without warning, Stiles and Isaac grabbed their bags and sprinted toward the beach, whooping in unison. “Let’s go, baby!” they shouted, their voices echoing across the sand.

Damon watched them go, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are we sure those two aren’t part golden retriever?”

“Pretty sure,” Stefan replied with a grin, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. “But they do have a point. Let’s go.”

As Luna followed her brothers toward the shoreline, she couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a while, it felt like they could all breathe.

The beach was alive with laughter, the sound of waves rolling in, and the occasional thud of a volleyball hitting the sand. But at the center of the chaos, Damon sat up with an annoyed groan, sand cascading off him in chunks. “Okay, who buried me in the sand while I was napping?” His voice cut through the lively sounds of the beach, sharp and accusing.

Stiles, a few feet away, leaned back on his elbows with sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose. He raised his hands in mock innocence, though the twitching grin on his face gave him away instantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Damon’s glare intensified as he pointed to the sandcastle sitting atop his legs. Complete with a moat, tiny turrets, and a makeshift flag made from a cocktail umbrella, it was a work of art—an annoying one. “Oh really? Care to explain this masterpiece then?”

“It wasn’t me!” Stiles protested, though his voice cracked as he barely held back laughter.

Isaac, sprawled out on a nearby lounge chair with a book resting on his chest, didn’t even glance up. “You literally said, ‘Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we turned Damon into a sandcastle?’ about five minutes ago.”

“Traitor!” Stiles shot at Isaac, who smirked lazily before turning a page.

Luna giggled from her spot under a wide, colorful beach umbrella, her camera in hand as she snapped a picture of Damon’s half-sandy form. “To be fair, Damon, it is a pretty impressive castle. The detail work on the turrets is top-notch.”

Damon groaned, standing and brushing sand off his legs with exaggerated annoyance. “You’re all lucky I’m on vacation. If we were back home, this beach would be the site of a supernatural smackdown.”

“Relax, Damon,” Stefan called out as he tossed a frisbee toward Isaac, who caught it mid-air with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves. Maybe even have some fun?”

“Define ‘fun,’” Damon muttered, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Despite his grumbling, Damon was soon roped into their impromptu volleyball game, where the rules seemed more about creative use of supernatural abilities than any actual sportsmanship. Stefan used his vampire speed to dive for impossible saves, Isaac’s wolf strength sent the ball flying so far they nearly lost it in the ocean, and Stiles...well, Stiles spent most of the game tripping over his own feet and dramatically accusing everyone else of foul play.

Luna stayed under the umbrella, snapping candid shots of the chaos. Stiles mid-faceplant into the sand, Isaac’s victory pose after spiking the ball, Damon mock-wrestling Stefan for control of the net—it was all gold for her collection. She loved these moments when they were just a family, the weight of the supernatural world lifted off their shoulders, even if only temporarily.

Eventually, the game devolved into a free-for-all water fight. By the time everyone flopped onto their towels, dripping wet and exhausted, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Luna stood by the shoreline, holding her phone out for a selfie. The sunlight glinted off the waves behind her as she angled the shot to capture her beach-ready look—a turquoise bikini with a sheer wrap tied at her waist.

As she admired the photo, Damon appeared out of nowhere, towel slung over his shoulder and a devilish grin on his face. “You better not send that to Marcel,” he teased, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Luna rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed a little. “It’s for me, Damon. Not everything is about Marcel.”

“Sure, sure,” he drawled, turning back toward the others. “Just remember, I’ve got vampire speed, so I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Luna laughed, shaking her head as she slipped her phone back into her bag. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Damon called over his shoulder, earning a chorus of groans and laughter from the group. The sun dipped lower, and for that moment, everything felt blissfully simple.

The streets of Nassau bustled with energy as the group meandered through its colorful heart. Pastel-painted buildings lined the cobblestone paths, their shutters wide open to reveal an array of vibrant market stalls. The scent of roasted plantains and fresh conch wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and island music. It was a perfect afternoon.

Luna paused at a small stall adorned with strings of handmade jewelry, her attention caught by a delicate bracelet crafted from smooth sea glass in shades of turquoise and green. She traced a finger over the polished fragments, her expression soft with quiet admiration.

Stefan, ever perceptive, stepped closer. “You like it?” he asked, leaning down to examine the piece alongside her.

“It’s beautiful,” Luna admitted, her voice tinged with hesitation. “But I don’t need it. I don’t want you to keep buying me things.”

Stefan gave her a look of mock seriousness. “Luna, it’s a rule of vacations: you have to get souvenirs. How else will you remember the great time we’re having?”

Luna chuckled softly. “I have plenty of photos for that.”

“Photos are great,” Stefan agreed, already pulling out his wallet. “But a bracelet you can wear? That’s better.”

Before she could protest further, Stefan handed the vendor some cash, taking the bracelet and gently sliding it onto Luna’s wrist. “There,” he said, smiling down at her. “Now every time you look at it, you’ll remember this moment.”

Luna stared at the bracelet for a long second, the cool glass pieces resting lightly against her skin. Then she looked up at Stefan, her expression melting into one of pure affection. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not possible,” Stefan said simply, his voice steady. “You deserve good things, Luna. All of them.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Impulsively, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Stefan returned the embrace without hesitation, resting his chin lightly on her head.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”

“Always,” Stefan replied, his voice low and certain.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Damon was engaged in an intense battle of wills at a food stall. He waved a bag of candied nuts in front of the vendor, gesturing wildly as if trying to prove a point.

“Fifteen dollars for this tiny bag?!” Damon exclaimed, his voice loud enough to turn heads. “You’re robbing me in broad daylight!”

The vendor, unimpressed, shrugged. “That’s the price. Take it or leave it.”

“Just pay the man, Damon!” Stiles called out, throwing his arms up in frustration. “It’s not like you don’t have the money.”

“It’s the principle,” Damon shot back, his tone indignant. “He’s overcharging me because I’m a tourist.”

“Or because you’re being annoying,” Isaac muttered as he wandered over to Luna and Stefan, earning a stifled laugh from her.

By the time the group regrouped, Damon was triumphantly munching on the candied nuts, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face. “See?” he said, holding up the bag like a trophy. “Victory. Got it for twelve.”

Stiles stared at him, dumbfounded. “You wasted ten minutes for a three-dollar discount?”

“It’s not about the money,” Damon replied, popping another nut into his mouth. “It’s about winning.”

Isaac shook his head in disbelief. “You’re insufferable.”

Luna, still admiring her new bracelet, couldn’t help but laugh softly. “At least he’s consistent.”

Stefan chuckled beside her, sliding his arm lightly around her shoulders as they began to walk again. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the market, and for a moment, everything felt wonderfully, perfectly normal.

The seafood restaurant was a charming mix of rustic island vibes and modern flair, its open walls allowing the warm breeze to mingle with the scent of saltwater and freshly grilled seafood. A live steel drum band played in the corner, setting the tone for a lively evening as the group gathered around a table piled high with colorful dishes.

The centerpiece was an enormous lobster placed ceremoniously in front of Damon, its claws comically oversized.

“Okay, who ordered the giant lobster?” Stiles asked, gesturing incredulously at the crustacean.

“That would be me,” Damon said with a smug grin, raising his glass of rum punch in a mock toast. “Go big or go home.”

Isaac leaned back in his chair, eyeing the lobster warily. “You realize that thing’s staring at you, right?”

“It’s a battle of wills,” Damon declared, picking up a cracker and snapping one of the claws with dramatic flair. “And I’m winning.”

“Pretty sure it’s already lost,” Luna pointed out, her voice laced with amusement as she carefully speared a piece of her conch salad.

Stefan smirked, sipping his water. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the guy who broods for a living,” Damon shot back, pointing his fork at his brother before digging into the lobster meat.

Luna shook her head, laughter bubbling up. “I can’t take you guys anywhere.”

“Hey, we’re behaving,” Stiles interjected, flashing an overly innocent smile as he leaned forward to grab a piece of grilled pineapple from the platter in the center of the table.

“Behaving?” Isaac snorted. “You spilled a drink on the waiter five minutes ago.”

“That was an accident!” Stiles defended, though the grin tugging at his lips suggested otherwise.

Halfway through the meal, the chaos level ticked up a notch. Stiles, gesturing animatedly while telling a story about his latest misadventure, accidentally knocked his elbow into a plate of shrimp. The plate teetered precariously before flipping off the table, sending shrimp flying straight into Stefan’s lap.

“Seriously?” Stefan sighed, glaring down at the seafood now decorating his pants. He picked up a rogue shrimp with two fingers, holding it like evidence in a crime scene.

“It was an accident!” Stiles said quickly, though he couldn’t stop the laughter that overtook him.

“Better your lap than my face,” Damon quipped, smirking as he cracked open another lobster claw.

“Keep talking, and this shrimp is going in your face,” Stefan muttered, brushing off his pants and flicking the shrimp back onto the plate with a little too much force.

Luna covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “Poor Stefan,” she said, her voice shaking with amusement. “You’re the only one who ever tries to keep things civilized.”

“Doesn’t help when I’m surrounded by children,” Stefan replied, giving Stiles a pointed look.

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Stiles said, grinning unapologetically.

Damon raised his glass again, his smirk widening. “Here’s to family dinners,” he said. “And to Stefan, who makes a great shrimp platter.”

Stefan groaned, Isaac snickered, and Luna couldn’t help but dissolve into laughter. As the band played on and the warm island air wrapped around them, the group fell into a familiar rhythm of banter and laughter, their bond stronger than any seafood disaster.

Back at their cozy rental villa, the family sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by plush cushions and the sound of gentle island music filtering through the open windows. Stefan sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through seashells he and Luna had collected earlier, while Damon leaned back in an armchair with a glass of bourbon, smirking at something Isaac had said. Stiles, as usual, was the loudest, recounting the dinner disaster with over-the-top gestures, earning snickers from the others.

Amid the laughter, Luna’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, her face lighting up when she saw the name on the screen.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, walking toward the balcony.

“Who’s that?” Damon asked, raising a brow. “Marcel?”

The room erupted into playful teasing before Luna could even confirm.

“Ooooh, Marcel!” Stiles drawled, clasping his hands over his heart in mock romance.

Isaac grinned. “Quick, Damon, get the interrogation lamp. We need to make sure this guy’s good enough for her.”

“Oh, he’s definitely not,” Damon said with a smirk. “I’ve already decided.”

Luna rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing as she headed for the sliding glass doors. “You’re all children,” she muttered, pulling the door closed behind her.

On the balcony, the world was calm. The ocean stretched out in the moonlight, and the breeze carried the scent of saltwater and tropical flowers. Leaning against the railing, Luna pressed the phone to her ear, her voice softening.

“Hey, how’s paradise?” Marcel’s warm tone immediately put her at ease.

“Chaotic,” Luna admitted with a laugh. “Damon and Stiles nearly caused an international incident at dinner.”

“That sounds about right,” Marcel chuckled. “You surviving okay?”

“Barely,” she teased, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice softened further. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Marcel said, his voice carrying a sincerity that made her smile. “But I’m glad you’re getting time with your brothers. You deserve a break.”

“Don’t worry,” she teased back. “I’m not letting Damon drag you into any crazy sibling tests when we get back.”

Marcel laughed, the sound deep and comforting. “Good to know. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

“No promises,” Luna replied with a grin. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said before the call ended.

Luna lingered on the balcony, the phone still in her hand, as the warm breeze ruffled her hair. A contented smile played on her lips, the chaotic evening fading into a peaceful calm.

Inside, the teasing hadn’t stopped.

“She’s smiling,” Stiles whispered loudly, peeking through the glass door. “That’s definitely a lovestruck smile.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Stefan deadpanned, though his lips twitched in amusement.

Damon smirked, leaning closer to the door. “Think she’s planning their wedding yet?”

“Marcel better hope he’s ready to deal with us,” Isaac added, crossing his arms.

Luna finally slid the door open and poked her head inside. “You guys are so mature, you know that?”

“Oh, totally,” Stiles said, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “We’re just emotionally invested in your love life.”

“And your potential fiancé’s survival,” Damon added.

Luna groaned, stepping back inside. “You’re all impossible.”

“Hey,” Stefan said, tossing her the bracelet she’d admired earlier. “At least we’re funny.”

She caught the bracelet, shaking her head fondly. “Debatable.”

“Not debatable,” Isaac said, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at Stiles.

The teasing faded into more laughter, the kind that echoed through the villa and out into the night, mingling with the sound of the waves. Luna looked around at her brothers, her heart full as she tucked the bracelet into her pocket.

They were chaotic, yes. But they were hers.

The next morning, the group stood on the dock, squinting at the sleek rental boat bobbing gently in the water. It looked promising—a vessel of freedom and fun—but as soon as Damon took the wheel, that promise quickly descended into chaos.

“Damon, I think you’re supposed to go left!” Stefan yelled, bracing himself against the side of the boat as the engine roared.

“I am going left!” Damon shot back, his tone defensive as the boat veered dangerously close to a buoy.

“You’re going diagonally left into disaster!” Stiles screamed, clutching the railing with white knuckles.

Isaac, sitting calmly in the back, leaned over to Luna. “So… how worried should we be on a scale of one to we’re-about-to-die?”

Luna laughed, the wind whipping her hair around her face. “With Damon at the helm? Always keep it at an eight. But don’t worry, he’s like a cat—he always lands on his feet.”

“That doesn’t apply to driving boats!” Stiles howled.

“Relax,” Damon called over his shoulder, adjusting his sunglasses like he had everything under control. “This baby’s got plenty of power. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

As if to prove him wrong, the boat suddenly jerked to the side, tossing Stefan forward into Stiles, who let out a very unflattering yelp.

“Stop manhandling the throttle!” Stefan snapped, untangling himself from Stiles.

“Stop micromanaging my driving!” Damon retorted, yanking the wheel dramatically.

Eventually, by some miracle—and perhaps sheer stubbornness—they managed to anchor the boat near a secluded cove. The water here was crystal clear, with shades of turquoise so vibrant it looked surreal.

“See?” Damon said smugly, stepping back from the wheel. “I told you I’d get us here alive.”

“Barely,” Stiles muttered, flopping onto a seat with exaggerated relief.

The group soon got over the chaotic ride as they unpacked their snorkeling gear. They spent the afternoon diving into the cool water, marveling at the colorful fish darting around coral reefs. Stiles was the first to yell out when he spotted a sea turtle, practically vibrating with excitement as it glided gracefully past.

“I want to take it home!” he declared, splashing after it.

“That’s illegal,” Isaac said flatly, adjusting his snorkel.

Luna floated nearby, laughing as she took photos of the underwater world with a waterproof camera. Stefan, ever the responsible one, swam alongside her, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.

When it came time to take turns with the fancy diving mask—an unnecessarily high-tech contraption Damon had insisted on renting—chaos resumed.

“It’s my turn!” Stiles argued, clutching the mask like his life depended on it.

“You’ve had it for twenty minutes!” Isaac countered, trying to wrestle it away.

“I’m studying the fish!” Stiles shouted.

“You’re scaring the fish!” Isaac snapped, yanking the mask free.

Luna surfaced from the water, her face glowing with laughter. “You two are ridiculous. Just share it!”

“Sharing’s for people who don’t value science!” Stiles retorted, making a grab for the mask.

Damon, lounging on the boat with a drink in hand, smirked at the scene. “Let them fight it out. Builds character.”

“You’re supposed to be the adult here!” Stefan said, hauling himself onto the boat, his hair dripping.

“Wrong. I’m on vacation,” Damon replied, raising his glass.

Eventually, peace was restored when Luna diplomatically mediated, using her big-sister energy to convince Stiles and Isaac to split the remaining time with the mask. The rest of the afternoon was filled with more swimming, lounging, and good-natured ribbing as the group soaked up the sun.

By the time they returned to the dock, everyone was exhausted but exhilarated, their earlier mishaps turning into stories they’d laugh about for years.

As they disembarked, Stiles dramatically kissed the dock. “Solid ground, I’ve missed you!”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Damon said, rolling his eyes.

“And you’re a terrible captain,” Stiles shot back.

Luna chuckled, snapping one last photo of the group with the boat in the background. “Admit it,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “That was fun.”

Isaac slung an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, but next time, I’m driving.”

“Over my dead body,” Damon said, leading the way up the dock as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in hues of deep indigo and scattered stars. The group had gathered on the beach around a roaring bonfire, its flickering flames casting golden light over their faces. The crackle of the fire mixed with the soothing sound of the waves, creating a peaceful rhythm.

Luna sat cross-legged on a blanket, a bag of marshmallows in her lap. “Who wants to try not to burn their marshmallow this time?” she asked, holding one up with a teasing smile.

“I’m a professional now,” Stiles announced, jabbing his marshmallow-laden stick into the fire with confidence.

“Yeah, professional at turning them into charcoal,” Isaac quipped, his smirk widening as Stiles’s marshmallow immediately caught fire.

“Controlled chaos,” Stiles said, blowing out the flames and inspecting the blackened marshmallow. “It’s an art form.”

“More like a disaster,” Damon snorted, expertly toasting his own marshmallow to a perfect golden brown. He smirked at Stiles, holding it up like a trophy. “This is how it’s done.”

Stefan chuckled, passing a chocolate bar to Luna, who was assembling s’mores with quiet focus. “You should open a s’mores stand, Luna. These are perfect.”

“I do have a gift,” she said with a mock-serious nod, handing him a completed s’more. “But don’t tell Damon—it’ll bruise his ego.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, his mouth full of his own s’more. “What ego? I’m the most humble person here.”

“Sure you are,” Stefan said, shaking his head.

Luna leaned back on her hands, her gaze drifting to the ocean. “This feels… perfect,” she said softly. “Just us. No drama, no chaos—well, less chaos.”

Isaac raised his stick triumphantly. “And no vampires trying to kill us!”

“Present company excluded,” Damon added dryly, pointing at himself and Stefan.

“Obviously,” Stiles said with a grin. “You guys are the good vampires.”

“For now,” Damon said, smirking.

The conversation turned to reminiscing about their adventures—Stiles exaggerating every detail, Isaac rolling his eyes, Stefan offering corrections, and Damon embellishing his own heroics. Luna mostly listened, her laughter ringing out as the stories got more ridiculous.

By the time the fire began to die down, they were all sitting in a loose circle, marshmallows forgotten. Stiles leaned back, staring at the sky. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Luna said, her gaze following his.

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed, pulling his knees to his chest. “Makes you realize how small everything else is.”

Damon, surprisingly quiet, took a long sip from his flask before setting it down. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something like this,” he admitted, his voice unusually sincere.

Stefan nodded, glancing at each of them. “We needed this.”

Luna leaned into Stefan’s side, her smile gentle. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m really lucky to have you guys.”

“Even me?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Even you,” she teased.

“Aw, group hug!” Stiles declared, launching himself at Luna and Stefan. Isaac groaned but joined in, and before long, even Damon allowed himself to be dragged into the pile.

They dissolved into laughter, arms slung around one another as the fire flickered its last. For that moment, there were no threats, no supernatural madness—just siblings, bonded by love, laughter, and the memories of an unforgettable vacation.

[selmasemlan]

Brotherly Bonds and Bourbon Confessions

Summary: Damon asks the important question, making it clear that if Luna is hurt, Marcel isn't safe

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: I LOVE PROTECTIVE BROTHER/FATHER

Warning: none

Word count: 1057

Series Masterlist

Brotherly Bonds and Bourbon Confessions

The loft was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant echo of the city outside. Marcel moved silently through the dimly lit space, carefully carrying Luna in his arms. Her head rested against his chest, her breathing even and peaceful. Damon’s earlier chaos had clearly worn her out—not that Marcel minded. He liked seeing her this calm, this content.

He nudged open the door to their room with his foot and gently laid her down on the bed they shared. Pulling the blanket over her, Marcel paused for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She murmured something in her sleep, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“You really do light up a room, Luna,” he whispered softly before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Back in the main area, Damon and Stefan were perched at the kitchen counter, nursing glasses of bourbon. Damon, ever the picture of nonchalance, leaned back in his chair, twirling the glass in his hand, while Stefan sat upright, his face thoughtful as he gazed into the amber liquid.

On the couches, Isaac and Stiles were sprawled out in ridiculous positions, dead to the world. Stiles had one leg draped over the backrest, snoring softly, while Isaac had somehow managed to curl himself into the smallest ball imaginable.

“Quite the trio,” Marcel said, nodding toward the couches as he entered the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured himself a drink, leaning casually against the counter.

Stefan chuckled, motioning toward Stiles. “He looks like he lost a fight with gravity.”

Damon smirked. “And Isaac looks like he’s auditioning to be a cat.”

Marcel laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “They’re good kids, though. They keep things interesting.”

Stefan turned to Marcel, his expression softening. “Thanks for taking them in. Stiles especially. He can be… a lot.”

Damon chimed in with a smirk. “And Isaac. That’s patience, my friend.”

Marcel shook his head, laughing. “It’s nothing, really. They’re basically my brothers at this point. Family sticks together, right?”

Damon’s smirk faded, his expression turning serious. He set his glass down with a deliberate clink, his piercing eyes locking onto Marcel. “Speaking of family…” he began, his tone heavy. “What’s your plan with my sister?”

The mood in the room shifted instantly. Stefan’s smile vanished, and Marcel’s grip on his glass tightened slightly.

“Damon,” Stefan warned, his voice low, “take it easy.”

Damon didn’t even glance at his brother. “No, you butt out of this, Stefan. You’re her brother, sure, but me? I’m her father.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet challenge. Damon leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “I raised her. I took her in after I killed her stepfather, healed her, loved her like she was my own blood. So yeah, I think I’ve earned the right to ask what your intentions are.”

Marcel set his drink down carefully, taking a moment to meet Damon’s intense gaze. “I love Luna,” he said firmly, his voice steady and sincere. “More than anything. She’s my future. My plan is to stay with her forever, to build a life with her. And I will never let anyone or anything hurt her. Not as long as I’m breathing.”

Damon didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at Marcel, his expression unreadable, the weight of the moment pressing down like a heavy fog. Stefan glanced nervously between them, clearly ready to intervene if things escalated.

Finally, Damon leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He picked up his glass and raised it slightly. “Well,” he said, his tone lighter but no less serious, “that’s a decent answer.”

Marcel allowed himself a small smile, lifting his own glass in return. “Glad I passed the test.”

Damon smirked, his usual cockiness returning. “You’re not off the hook yet, but it’s a good start.”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Call it what you want, Stefan,” Damon shot back. “I’m just making sure my little girl is in good hands.”

Marcel chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s lucky to have you, you know. Both of you.”

Damon snorted. “Of course she is. We’re amazing.”

Stefan gave Marcel a knowing look, ignoring his brother’s ego. “She talks about you all the time, you know. How much you’ve done for her. How happy you make her.”

Marcel’s smile softened. “She’s everything to me. I just want her to be happy.”

Damon studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly, a rare flicker of genuine approval in his eyes. “You better keep it that way.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcel said with a grin, raising his glass again. “To Luna.”

“To Luna,” Stefan echoed, clinking his glass with Marcel’s.

Damon smirked, lifting his own glass. “To Luna—and to me not killing you for putting that look in her eyes.”

Marcel laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll drink to that.”

As the three of them sat there, the tension gradually eased, replaced by a shared understanding. They were all different men, shaped by different lives and experiences, but their love for Luna tied them together in a way none of them could deny.

From the couches, a loud snore broke the moment, followed by Stiles muttering something unintelligible in his sleep. Isaac rolled over, nearly toppling off the edge of the couch.

Damon raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward them. “You sure about these two?”

Marcel laughed, glancing at the sleeping duo. “They’re a handful, but yeah. I’m sure.”

Stefan chuckled. “Welcome to the family, Marcel. Chaos and all.”

Marcel grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

For the first time that night, Damon let out a genuine laugh. “You’re braver than I thought, taking on this circus.”

The three of them clinked their glasses one last time, the sound echoing through the quiet loft. It was a moment of peace, of camaraderie, and maybe even a little bit of acceptance. For Marcel, it was proof that he was exactly where he was meant to be—with Luna, with her family, and with the life they were building together.

And as the night stretched on, filled with the low hum of conversation and the occasional joke, Marcel couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. He had found his place, his family. And he wasn’t letting go of it—not for anything.

[selmasemlan]

☽︎ 𝘽𝙞𝙜 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡 ☾︎

✩𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧✩

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - your ego is bigger than your cunt, and now your forced to eat your words by Ekko's hands.

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - SMUT. pet names, crying, ekko being a asshole, unprotected sex(WRAP THAT SHIT BEFORE YOU TAP THAT SHIT)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - this is my first smut in a while and I feel like I overdid it with the details🥲 Nonetheless I hope you guys enjoy it ❤︎

You were always a little cocky. You thought the most of yourself, and that was fine, that's what Ekko loved about you, especially in moments where it came to bite you in the ass, like now.

"Are you sure, love?" He chuckled softly as he sat down in his desk chair, leant back with his knees spread as his dark beautiful eyes watched as you sat atop his desk, "I don't wanna break you." You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing and condescending tone, taking it as his way of challenging you as you hopped off his desk, "I'll be just fine, Ekko," you smirked as you maneuvered yourself in between his thighs, making his face somewhat leveled with the blessing in between your legs. "I'm a big girl, baby, I can handle myself," You continued as you stood before him in nothing but short, tight, black leather shorts that were paired nicely with fishnets and a makeshift crop top. The soft and plush skin of your thick thighs pushed through the holes of the fishnets, he couldn't help but eye you up and down to take in all of your curves. It wasn't until you gently pinched his chin with your thumb and pointer finger that he stopped looking at you, his eyes locking yours before he smirked. "You a big girl, huh?" He chuckled. "Yea, I'm not like those other bitches you used to fuck, I can actually handle it," you smirked as you leaned down closer to him, your hands resting on his arm rests as you bent down. Something about the way your body was bent down and the way your words slipped past your lips, it made his dick jump in his cargo pants. "Alright, show me how much of a big girl you are~"

He forced your words right back down your throat when he barely sinks the tip of his cinnamon brown, 8.5 inch, girthy cock into your soft, tight, little pussy and you start whimpering, panting out tiny little breaths as you feel him slowly stretch you open. "Damn baby, I thought you were a big girl," he chuckled "you can't even get past the tip princess," he cooed as his big form trapped you against the bed, his hand holding his weight up from beside your head as you look up at him with those big, needy, doe eyes. You didn't even have a comeback for his teasing comment, instead a broken whine slipped past your lips. He couldn't help the grunt that came out when your pussy tightened around his tip like a vice in an attempt to force him out. The mixture of your tightness and the sight of your pretty face scrunched up as you tried to inch away from him made his cock twitch as precum spilt out of his tip.

"Fuckk~" you whimpered as he free hand gripped your hip, tugging you back to him with a breathy chuckle, "c'mon princess, don't tap out now, you doing so good f'me," he cooed mockingly, coaxing tears from your eyes as he sunk deeper into your tight pussy. "Poor baby, what's wrong?" He smirked as he reached up, wiping your tears from your cheeks with his thumb. His condescending tone made you want to curl up into a ball, you suddenly felt so much smaller under him, and your sniffing and crying as he sunk farther into you didn't help.

The stretch hurt so much that it left your legs shaking and you clawing at his forearms. You were thankful that Ekko had ditched the his condescendingness, gently coaxing you through it with "your doing so good f'me," and "I got you baby, just a little more," before messily kissing you so deeply that it left your head spinning with love. All whilst holding the back of your knees to your chest, leaving your feet dangling over his shoulders as he watched his cock bully its way into your tight, weeping pussy.

"Shit baby, I bet you wished you listened to me now~" he cooed softly as his eyes rolled back, feeling you clench down on him so hard that he could barely move in you.

After that, you learned to not be so cocky and listen to him…

[selmasemlan]

Mercy only for her

Summary: Elijah's betrayal cuts deep, but Luna’s mercy holds Marcel back. Tensions rise as the Mikaelsons face the consequences of fractured loyalty and unspoken truths.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: "BEAT HIS ASS UP, BEAT HIS ASS UP"

Warning: violence

Word count: 1829

Series Masterlist

Mercy only for her

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the Mikaelson Manor as Klaus, Luna, and Marcel approached its grand doors. The tension between them was thick, every step echoing with unspoken fury and heartbreak.

The events of the night replayed in Klaus’s mind like a broken record: Elijah’s calculated strike, Marcel’s lifeless body, and the desperate hours spent searching for him alongside Luna, only to find him alive—transformed but alive. The relief had been overwhelming, but it had quickly given way to rage.

Now, they stood united in purpose: confronting Elijah for his betrayal.

Luna clung to Marcel’s arm as they entered the manor, her fingers trembling slightly despite the wave of relief that had overtaken her earlier. Marcel, however, was a storm barely contained, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with fury. Klaus was no different, his hands curled into fists as he stalked ahead, his every step a promise of confrontation.

The parlor doors creaked open, and there sat Elijah, composed as ever, a glass of red wine in his hand. He rose to his feet at the sight of them, his expression neutral, though a flicker of unease crossed his face when his eyes landed on Marcel.

“You,” Klaus growled, his voice low and dangerous, “have crossed a line tonight, brother.”

Elijah’s gaze shifted between them, taking in Klaus’s seething rage, Luna’s pale but determined expression, and Marcel’s barely contained wrath. “I see,” Elijah said, his tone measured, though there was a note of regret in his voice. “So, he’s alive.”

“Alive?” Marcel spat, his voice cold and sharp. “You ripped my heart out, Elijah. You left me for dead.” He took a threatening step forward, his presence commanding. “And for what? To protect your precious idea of family?”

Elijah didn’t flinch, though his jaw tightened. “You left me no choice,” he said evenly. “You were becoming a threat to all of us, Marcel. To Luna.”

“Don’t you dare bring me into this,” Luna interjected, her voice trembling with anger as she stepped forward. “You have no right to use me as an excuse for what you did.”

The air in the Mikaelson Manor grew thick with tension, the sharp edges of anger slicing through the silence like a blade. Marcel’s entire body was rigid with fury, and though Luna clung to his arm, her soft presence barely kept his wrath at bay. Klaus stood nearby, his own anger simmering beneath the surface, a volcano threatening to erupt.

Elijah, still standing with a semblance of composure, watched the trio with calculating eyes. His mask of calm only enraged Marcel further.

“You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?” Marcel growled, stepping forward, his voice a low rumble. “That you can kill me, betray me, and just stand there sipping wine like nothing happened.”

Elijah opened his mouth to respond, but Marcel didn’t give him the chance. In a flash, Marcel’s hand shot out, gripping Elijah by the neck with an iron-like grasp. The wineglass slipped from Elijah’s fingers, shattering on the floor as he struggled against Marcel’s hold.

The shift in power was immediate and palpable. Elijah’s eyes widened in shock, his hands clawing at Marcel’s wrist. He was strong—one of the oldest vampires in existence—but Marcel’s grip was unyielding, his newfound strength undeniable. For the first time in centuries, Elijah Mikaelson found himself at a disadvantage.

“You’re stronger...” Elijah rasped, his voice strained. His feet dangled inches above the floor as Marcel lifted him effortlessly.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed,” Marcel hissed, his voice laced with venom. His golden eyes glowed with an otherworldly power, and his lips curled into a snarl. “You thought you could kill me and walk away? You thought I’d just forgive you?”

“Marcel, stop!” Luna cried, rushing forward. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch desperate, her voice trembling. “Please, let him go. Don’t do this.”

Marcel’s grip tightened, his jaw clenched as he stared into Elijah’s shocked, struggling face. “Do you know why you’re still breathing right now?” he whispered, his voice a chilling calm that cut through Luna’s pleas. He leaned closer, his words meant only for Elijah’s ears. “It’s because of her. Luna is the only reason you’re not choking on your own blood right now.”

Elijah’s eyes darted to Luna, her wide, tear-filled gaze locked on Marcel. There was no mistaking the desperation in her voice as she called to him again. “Marcel, please! You’re not like this. You’re not him. Let him go!”

Marcel held Elijah a moment longer, his grip still firm but not tightening further. “You owe her your life, Elijah. She’s your savior, not me. So, you’d better start worshiping her as one. Because the next time you cross me, or even think of hurting her... there won’t be a Luna here to save you.”

With that, Marcel released him. Elijah crumpled to the floor, coughing and rubbing his neck, his composed mask shattered for the first time. He looked up at Marcel, his expression a mix of shock, anger, and something dangerously close to fear.

Marcel didn’t spare him another glance. Instead, he turned and walked back to Luna, his steps steady but radiating restrained fury. When he reached her, his expression softened, and he took her trembling hands in his.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “But he had to understand.”

Luna stared up at him, her tears streaking her cheeks. “Marcel, you can’t let this darkness consume you. Please promise me that you won’t let it win.”

Marcel cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I promise,” he whispered. “For you, I’ll always try.”

Klaus’s rage boiled over, and he advanced on Elijah, his eyes glowing with a mixture of fury and heartbreak. “You betrayed me, Elijah. You betrayed us. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I did what I thought was necessary,” Elijah said, his voice quieter now, though no less firm. “Marcel’s power was becoming unchecked. He was a danger—”

“Enough!” Klaus roared, his voice reverberating through the room. “You dare speak of danger when you’ve fractured this family yet again? Marcel is my son! He was your family, and you destroyed him!”

Marcel’s fists clenched at his sides, and Luna stepped closer to him, her presence grounding him. She could feel the fury radiating from both men, but it was Marcel’s barely contained pain that cut her the deepest. She placed a hand on his chest, her touch soothing but firm.

“Marcel,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “Don’t let him drag you down to his level. You’re better than this.”

Marcel exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting from Luna to Elijah. “Better than this?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “You have no idea what it feels like, Luna. To be betrayed by the people who are supposed to care for you.”

“I do,” Luna said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. “But this isn’t the way.”

Klaus stepped back, his chest heaving as he tried to rein in his own anger. “She’s right,” he muttered, though the words tasted bitter. “As much as I want to rip you apart, Elijah, we won’t stoop to your level. But make no mistake—this betrayal will not be forgotten.”

Elijah’s gaze softened as it landed on Luna, her presence a stark contrast to the storm surrounding him. “I regret my actions,” he said, his voice quieter now. “More than you could know. But I stand by my intent.”

Marcel scoffed, his fury rekindling. “Your intent? To kill me? To tear me from her? You think that justifies anything?”

Luna placed a hand on Marcel’s arm, her touch a silent plea for restraint. “Marcel,” she whispered, “please.”

Marcel exhaled slowly, his muscles tensing under her hand. “This isn’t over,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You think you can just walk away from this? You owe me. You owe her.”

Elijah inclined his head, his expression grave. “I will do whatever it takes to atone for my actions.”

Klaus stepped forward, his own rage momentarily cooled by the raw intensity of the scene. He glanced at Elijah, who was now pulling himself to his feet, and then at Marcel and Luna. “This night has proven one thing, Elijah,” Klaus said, his voice cold. “Marcel is not the boy you once knew. He’s a king now, one you should pray never turns his sights on you again.”

Elijah met Klaus’s gaze, his composure slowly returning, though his pride had clearly taken a blow. “I acted to protect us all,” he said hoarsely. “But I see now that I underestimated the consequences.”

Marcel turned slightly, his arm still around Luna. “Underestimated?” he echoed, his tone mocking. “You tried to erase me, Elijah. The only reason this family isn’t in pieces right now is because of her.” He nodded toward Luna, his expression softening as he looked at her. “She’s the glue holding all of us together.”

Luna’s cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady as she finally spoke. “This has to stop. The fighting, the betrayals—it has to stop. We’re supposed to be a family.”

Klaus sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “She’s right,” he muttered, though the admission pained him. “But Elijah, make no mistake. Your actions tonight have consequences. You’ve damaged the very foundation of what we’ve built.”

Elijah straightened, his usual composure slipping back into place, though his expression was still wary as he regarded Marcel. “I’ll atone,” he said solemnly. “Whatever it takes.”

“You’d better,” Klaus hissed, his voice venomous. “Because if you ever touch him again, brother, I will end you.”

Marcel scoffed but said nothing. He turned to Luna, his focus solely on her now. “Let’s go,” he said softly. “We don’t need to stay here any longer.”

Luna nodded, leaning into his side as they began to walk toward the door. Klaus followed, his gaze lingering on Elijah.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Marcel tightened his arm around Luna. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Marcel tightened his grip on Luna’s hand, pulling her closer. “You’re my anchor,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“And you’re my heart,” Luna replied, her voice trembling with emotion.

Klaus lingered behind, casting one last glance at Elijah. “Pray you never give me another reason to question your loyalty, brother,” he warned. Then, with a final glare, he followed Marcel and Luna into the night.

Klaus, walking just behind them, glanced at Marcel with a mixture of grudging respect and wariness. For all his anger, he couldn’t deny the strength Marcel had shown tonight—not just in power, but in restraint. It was a reminder that Marcel wasn’t just a product of his upbringing. He was a man, a king, and someone who had earned his place in their fractured family.

[selmasemlan]

The Strix’s Plan Unfolds

Summary: The enemy plans are in play, and our team, in alliance with the Originals, work against it.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: this fight!!!!

Warning: violence

Word count: 1148

Series Masterlist

The Strix’s Plan Unfolds

The tension in the Mikaelson compound was thick as the group gathered in preparation for their next move. Klaus and Elijah had been captured by the Strix, the ancient vampire society led by Tristan, with the intent of severing the sireline that protected Klaus. If they succeeded, Klaus would be vulnerable, and anyone could kill him without destroying his vampire lineage.

Luna stood by the fireplace, her face lit with an ominous glow from the fire. Bonnie was next to her, flipping through the grimoires, searching for any incantation that might give them an edge. Damon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Marcel paced the room, the weight of his double-agent status gnawing at him.

Freya had positioned herself near the center of the room, channeling Lucien’s blood for the counter-spell. Her brow was furrowed with concentration, her hands moving in intricate patterns. Hayley sat near the window, ready to jump into action.

“They’re already starting the ritual,” Freya said, eyes darkening. “If we don’t stop them soon, their sireline will be broken, and then…” she trailed off.

Elijah’s and Klaus´s life was on the line, their bond had kept them safe for so long. Breaking the sireline would not only isolate them but render them vulnerable to death.

Davina entered, glancing at Luna and the rest. “This is bad. The spell Tristan’s using is ancient and very powerful. We might not be able to break it in time.”

Marcel clenched his jaw, glancing at Luna with a mix of concern and determination. “Then we need to move, now.”

Bonnie slammed her book shut and turned to Freya. “How long do you need to finish the counter-spell?”

Freya sighed, clearly strained. “I can do it, but I’ll need more time.”

Damon pushed off the wall. “Then we go in. Stefan, Hayley, and I will hold them off. You finish the spell.” He nodded toward Marcel and the others.

Luna caught Marcel’s arm. “Be careful.”

Marcel gave her a small smile, the weight of their impending mission reflected in his eyes. “You too.”

The attack on the Strix hideout was chaotic. Damon, Stefan, Hayley, and Marcel led the charge, with Luna, Bonnie and Davina providing magical backup from the outskirts. The Strix witches were prepared, throwing up defenses as soon as they sensed the intrusion. Lightning flashed across the sky as the battle intensified, the storm reflecting the turbulence below.

Freya, still back at the Mikaelson compound, worked relentlessly to finish the counter-spell to sever the magical bindings holding Elijah and Klaus. But time was running out. As the witches cast their spell to break the sireline, Elijah was freed, collapsing to the ground, wet from the water that had binded him.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat when she saw Elijah stumble free, but Klaus remained trapped. The magic was still too strong, and they hadn’t completed the counter-spell in time.

Davina muttered under her breath, trying desperately to help Freya with the counter-spell from her position. “It’s not working,” she growled, frustration lining her face. “The magic is too deep.”

Marcel, meanwhile, was fighting tooth and nail against Tristan’s forces. But as the power of the Strix’s spell rippled through the air, all vampires in Klaus’s sireline—including Marcel—were hit with an overwhelming wave of pain.

Marcel doubled over, his knees buckling beneath him as the sireline was severed. Luna watched in horror as Marcel gritted his teeth, trying to stay standing amidst the magical onslaught. Damon, too, struggled to keep his footing. Stefan was the first to collapse, gasping for air as the connection to Klaus snapped like a taut rope.

“No!” Luna screamed, rushing toward Marcel. She used her magic to form a protective barrier around him, but the pain had already hit. Marcel grunted, trying to remain standing, but the pain was too much.

Bonnie shouted from the other side of the battlefield, trying to help Damon. “We have to retreat!” she called out.

Elijah, still weak but freed from the magical hold, managed to get up and move toward Hayley. “We need to get Klaus out, now.”

“We failed,” Hayley murmured, the realization sinking in.

They returned to the Mikaelson loft, carrying Klaus’s unconscious body. The sireline was broken. Klaus, now free from his magical bonds, lay still, but the weight of their failure loomed over them.

Freya rushed to Klaus’s side, trying to wake him, while Marcel leaned against the wall, his face drawn and pale from the aftereffects of the magical severing. Luna hovered nearby, watching Marcel with a mix of worry and guilt in her eyes.

“Marcel?” Luna’s voice was soft as she approached him.

He tried to brush it off with a weak smile, but the pain was still visible on his face. “I’m fine, Luna. Just another day in the life of fighting ancient vampires, right?”

She didn’t buy it. “No, you’re not fine. You felt that. You were linked to Klaus. Now the sireline is broken… Marcel, this changes everything.”

He sighed and pushed himself off the wall, looking away for a moment. “Yeah, it does. But as long as you, Davina, and the rest of our family are alive, the Mikaelsons can go to hell for all I care.”

“Don’t say that,” Luna whispered, stepping closer. “Klaus is your father, whether you admit it or not.”

Marcel met her gaze, his eyes full of emotion. “If he’s my father, then he’ll understand why I need to prioritize differently. I’m done playing games, Luna. I’m done being caught between their mess and ours. I want you safe.”

Luna’s heart twisted at his words. She didn’t want to admit it, but this whole situation scared her. It was on a level of danger that was unlike anything they’d faced before. They had faced witches, vampires, and prophecies, but this? This was different.

Luna stepped closer to Marcel, placing a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll get through this together.”

Marcel looked down at her, his eyes softening as he pulled her into an embrace. “I’m afraid of losing you, Luna.”

She kissed him softly, trying to convey every bit of reassurance she could through that kiss. “You won’t lose me,” she murmured.

Marcel held her tighter, his arms wrapping around her as if to protect her from the world. “I can’t lose you. Not after everything.”

“You won’t,” Luna whispered, resting her head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against hers.

Marcel sighed deeply, as though letting go of all the tension, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The chaos, the pain, the prophecy, the Mikaelsons—it all disappeared. All that mattered was that they were still here, together.

“We’ll figure it out,” Luna said softly, her words a promise and a hope.

Marcel kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there. “Yeah. We will.”

[selmasemlan]

I´ve also reworked the parts to "Epic Encounter", as I finish this story, I´ve also ensured that the parts follow the timeline. Please don't hate me cause this is my first fanfic in 10 years, and I was not as organised as I will be with future projects

[selmasemlan]

Unexpected guests

Summary: Luna, Isaac, and Stiles cause chaos in hers and Marcel’s loft, leading to a humorous confrontation when Marcel returns home.

Pairing: Marcel Gerard x Luna Salvatore (OFC)

Author note: I love sibling that fight but love each other

Warning: none

Word count: 1417

Series Masterlist

Unexpected guests

The New Orleans night buzzed with its usual charm—a mix of lively jazz, warm breezes, and the faint hint of mischief hanging in the air. Inside Marcel’s loft, however, the mischief wasn’t faint; it was full-blown chaos.

Stiles Stilinski darted from one corner of the room to the next, setting up what he insisted was a “system” for his belongings. Books, random trinkets, and a hoodie he’d worn three days in a row were strewn across the living room. Isaac Lahey leaned against the kitchen counter, smirking as he watched the spectacle unfold, tossing a grape into his mouth with the air of someone enjoying the show.

“Stiles,” Luna said with as much patience as she could muster, “what part of ‘don’t make it obvious you’re living here’ do you not understand?”

Stiles looked up from where he was arranging his laptop, a bag of gummy worms, and a stack of sticky notes on the coffee table. “This is subtle,” he said with a grin. “It’s like... organized chaos.”

Isaac snorted. “More chaos than organized. Marcel’s going to love this.”

Luna groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you want Marcel to throw you out? Because this is how you get thrown out. He already thinks we’re the troublesome trio, and you’re not exactly proving him wrong.”

“Troublesome? Us?” Stiles pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “I’ll have you know, Luna, that we’re delightful houseguests.”

Isaac chuckled, tossing another grape in Stiles’ direction. “You mean I’m a delightful houseguest. You’re just a tornado of snacks and bad decisions.”

“Hey, hey,” Stiles protested, catching the grape mid-air. “Bad decisions are part of my charm.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She knew this dynamic all too well—Stiles, Isaac, and her had been an inseparable trio since their Beacon Hills days. Their bond was more than friendship; it was family, forged in the fires of chaos and danger.

Isaac had been living in New Orleans with her and Marcel for months now, adjusting easily to the loft’s rhythms. Stiles, on the other hand, had only arrived a few days ago, bringing his unique brand of mayhem with him.

“Okay, listen,” Luna said, clapping her hands to get their attention. “I promised Marcel that your stay was temporary”, she points at Isaac and then turns to Stiles, “and you also staying here, makes it seem less temporary”

“It´s not like I wanna live in the same apartment as my sister and her boyfriend,’” Stiles said, popping a gummy worm into his mouth.

“You have no idea,” Isaac muttered, earning a glare from Luna.

Before she could reply, the sound of keys jingling at the front door silenced them all. Luna froze, her eyes widening.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “He’s home.”

The door swung open, and Marcel Gerard stepped inside, his expression immediately shifting from tired to wary as his gaze swept the room. His sharp eyes took in the clutter, the hoodie draped over the banister, and Stiles crouched suspiciously near the coffee table, mid-gummy worm chew.

“Luna,” Marcel said slowly, closing the door behind him and tossing his jacket onto a chair. “What’s going on here?”

Luna bolted down the stairs, her expression a mix of guilt and determination. She reached Marcel in record time, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Okay, before you say anything, let me explain,” she started, her voice rushed.

Marcel raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “This better be good.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurted. “Or... okay, maybe it is what it looks like, but there’s a reason!”

Marcel’s gaze flicked back to Stiles, who waved awkwardly, then to Isaac, who gave him a nonchalant nod.

“And the reason is...?” Marcel prompted, his tone amused but firm.

“I couldn’t leave Stiles in Beacon Hills,” Luna explained, her words spilling out in a rush. “You know how bad it’s gotten there. He needed a fresh start, just like Isaac did. And it’s not permanent! Just a few more days and it will all be back to normal. I’m setting up an apartment for them, I swear.”

Marcel’s expression softened slightly as she spoke, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And,” she continued, gesturing toward the boys, “they’re my brothers. I couldn’t just leave them. I promised them I’d help, and I—”

Before she could spiral further, Marcel stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

Luna blinked, caught off guard. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Marcel chuckled, shaking his head. “How could I be mad? Luna, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know. You saw someone in a tough spot and stepped up to help. That’s who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned into the embrace, her voice soft. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Marcel pulled back slightly, his hands still on her shoulders. “But a few days, huh?”

Luna froze, her smile faltering. “Uh... well...”

“You said a few days,” Marcel pointed out, a teasing edge to his voice. “a few months ago?”

Isaac smirked from the kitchen. “Busted.”

Stiles, ever the opportunist, chimed in. “Look, Marcel, a few days is nothing in the grand scheme of things. I mean, what’s time to a guy who’s, like, how old are you again?”

Marcel shot him a look, and Stiles immediately raised his hands in surrender. “Right. Shutting up now.”

Luna bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she turned back to Marcel. “Okay, three weeks might seem like a lot, but it’s not that bad! They’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

Marcel pulled back slightly, still holding her shoulders. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” she said quickly.

“Three weeks, Luna.” His tone was teasing, but the underlying hope was clear. “Not a day longer.”

Luna gave him her most convincing smile. “Of course! Just three weeks.”

Marcel nodded, seemingly satisfied, and began heading toward the kitchen. “Good. Now, let’s talk about how many snacks your brothers has stolen from my pantry.”

As soon as he disappeared into the next room, Luna exhaled a relieved sigh. She turned to sneak back upstairs, but before she could, Marcel’s voice rang out again, sharp with realization.

“Three weeks? Luna!”

She froze mid-step, cringing. “Uh-oh.”

His footsteps echoed as he returned to the foyer, his arms crossed. “What do you mean three weeks? You just said a few days? That’s not temporary—that’s an extended vacation!”

Luna sheepiestly makes some jazz hands and says “Ta-da”

Marcel sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re lucky I love you, Luna.”

“And you’re lucky I make excellent coffee,” she quipped, grinning.

As Marcel was muttering about the invasion of his home, Luna exchanged a triumphant look with Isaac and Stiles.

“Three weeks. Starting now,” he said, his tone firm but affectionate, pointing at Luna to make his point.

Luna hesitated, glancing back at Stiles and Isaac. “Three weeks?”

“Three weeks,” Marcel repeated, stepping past her toward the kitchen.

Stiles leaned over to Isaac, whispering loudly, “Does he know she’s bad at math?”

“I heard that,” Marcel called over his shoulder.

Luna sighed, shooting a glare at Stiles. “You’re lucky he’s in a good mood.”

Marcel’s voice drifted back to them. “I’m only in a good mood because I haven’t checked my pantry yet.”

Isaac smirked, popping another grape into his mouth. “Busted.”

Stiles shrugged. “Worth it.”

As Marcel disappeared into the kitchen, Luna turned to the boys, her hands on her hips. “Okay, new rule: no more gummy worms in the living room.”

Stiles gasped, clutching his chest. “You monster.”

Isaac chuckled. “She’s right, though. You’re kind of a disaster.”

“Oh, like you’re any better?” Stiles shot back, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him.

Isaac caught it effortlessly, a smug grin on his face. “At least I don’t get us caught.”

Luna sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. As chaotic as they were, they were her family, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Three weeks,” Marcel called again from the kitchen, his voice laced with humor.

“Three weeks!” Luna echoed, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Isaac leaned over to Stiles, whispering, “You think she’ll actually stick to three weeks?”

Stiles grinned. “Not a chance.”

And with that, the troublesome trio resumed their antics, the loft once again buzzing with the kind of chaos only they could create.