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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 days ago

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WRITING PROMPTS

WRITING PROMPTS FOR DAYS Feel free to request any of these for any character.

1. “Do you want me to leave?” 2. “I swear it won’t happen again.” 3. “I’m not jealous.” 4. “You can’t keep doing this.” 5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” 6. “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” 7. “You did what?!” 8. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 9. “Don’t ask me that.” 10. “I might have had a few shots.” 11. “What’s with the box?” 12. “Say it!” 13. “I could kiss you right now!” 14. “Are you done with that?” 15. “Are you still awake…?” 16. “Excuse you?” 17. “This is all your fault!” 18. “I shouldn’t be in love with you.” 19. “I could kill you right now!” 20. “Just admit I’m right.” 21. “That doesn’t even make sense.” 22. “That’s irrational.” 23. “Just pretend to be my date.” 24. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?” 25. “When you love someone, you don’t just stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Especially then!” 26. “I think I’ve been holding myself from falling in love with you all over again.” 27. “I’m not going to apologise for this. Not anymore.” 28. “That’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.” 29. “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” 30. “Can I sit here? The other tables are full.” 31. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!” 32. “This is, by far, the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” 33. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” 34. “These stars are nothing compared to the ones I’ve seen in your eyes.” 35. “Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you.” 36. “Did I say that out loud?” 37. “Do you think they could have loved me?” 38. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.” 39. “How long have you been standing there?” 40. “Have I ever lied to you?” 41. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” 42. “His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.” 43. “I am not losing you again!” 44. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” 45. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 46. “I just need to be alone right now.” 47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you.” 48. “I made a mistake.” 49. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.” 50. “I need you to forgive me.” 51. “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.” 52. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.” 53. “I’m flirting with you.” 54. “I’m not good enough for you.” 55. “I fell in love with my best friend.” 56. “I’m sorry, what? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” 57. “I’m up to the challenge.” 58. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you.” 59. “I’m yours.” 60. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” 61. “If you go anywhere near them, you’ll have to deal with me!” 62. “It’s okay to cry…” 63. “What do you mean? It’s exciting!” 64. “Talk to me.” 65. “Look at me—just breathe, okay?” 66. “Look, I don’t have much time, but I wanted to say I love you.” 67. “Oh my god! You’re in love with them!” 68. “Well, this is where I live.” 69. “We finish it the same way we started—together.” 70. “What are you afraid of?” 71. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me.” 72. “You deserve so much better.” 73. “You don’t have to stay.” 74. “You don’t know you the way I do.” 75. “You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” 76. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” 77. “You shouldn’t have even been there!” 78. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” 79. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” 80. “Teach me?” 81. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?” 82. “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.” 83. “Just once.” 84. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” 85. “It’s not what it looks like.” 86. “I got you a present.” 87. “Hey! I was gonna eat that!” 88. “See, now, what that so bad?”.” 89. “You’re the best part of me.” 90. “I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you.” 91. “Can I hold your hand?” 92. “Let’s move in together.” 93. “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.” 94. “What time is it?” 95. “Just wait a second.” 96. “Here, let me.” 97. “You’re so cute when you pout like that.” 98. “Hold me back!’ 99. “I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!” 100. “I adore you.”

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 3 days ago

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Well come back! I want/need more of your stories! ;)

💕

You can always find me on AO3 @ guysinmyhead

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 14 days ago

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Here’s a fun one I might’ve mentioned.

Anna has freckles, no? Which is sun damage.

Adam has calluses which are, to be fair, a way in which the body heals repetitive damage but like…surely he shouldn’t have them?

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 27 days ago

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Can you do or find a mercy x bran fic pretty please?

This is an old request and for that, I apologize. I had a few of these in the asks but here’s my series that’s exploring what an attempt at that from the get-go might have resembled: Whiskey Neat which is now 5 very brief works long, the fifth of which is only on Chapter 1/3.

As for someone else’s writing, this might be your cup of tea. Unlikely Synchronicity by Josephides

#Mercy Thompson series #patricia briggs fanfiction #Patricia Briggs #mercy thompson fanfiction #fanfiction requests

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 27 days ago

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Do mechanics wear watches (that might get caught on things while they’re working so presumably not wearing them at all when they’re in working shape) on their dominant arm?

I give credit to people who have to wear a watch on their dominant arm. I was nursing a wrist injury from lifting my toddler like an idiot and had to wear it on my right. So awkward to check it while actively working and—in an age of digital watch faces—my digital lights up every single time I move even when set to dominant wrist in settings. I had to switch to my analog else I’d have lost my mind.

Anyways. Just thinking about this bc I did a reread a little while back and it has been haunting me ever since.

#mercy thompson series #patricia briggs

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 29 days ago

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Leah and Bran's conversation after the events of Wild Sign

A/N: I had this one already drafted and just never posted it because I literally hate how much I find Bran fascinating as a concept. Like, we all recognize that he did technically do this twice that we know of right? Anyways, he's devolving and I think we can all agree that's fine. ETA: link at bottom to AO3

“You love me.” The words felt wrong on her tongue. It came out so much flatter and emotionless than she had meant for it to, but she was tired.

The weight of two centuries being closed off and held at arms length was bone-crushing. Two centuries. Two hundred years she had felt nothing and now even something that should have felt normal—would have felt normal to any other mated werewolf—felt like a tsunami.

“You only want to apologize because I remember.” Everything in her wanted to turn away, but something was forcing her to stay with her feet planted firmly where they were.

He was thinking too much if he wasn’t responding, gauging her reaction and trying to analyze the best possible outcome. That was what he did always, though usually he was quicker.

“Unless you refuse to even give me that.”

“Greatly wronged,” was what he had said, “I don’t want to lose you”. Manipulation at its finest, he never would apologize.

There was so much to unpack and Leah didn’t quite think she had the energy for it. She had remembered nothing until that split-second moment of death. Then she had known and it felt as if she’d never failed to know. Like her body had always remembered even if she had not always been able to recall it. Confessing to her then would have given her power. Admitting he had done wrong would have been too kind.

I love you. The only one she could remember loving before these last few days.

“I don’t forgive you.”

It was ridiculous. It was against her character. The tears in her eyes clouding her vision betrayed her insecurities more than anything else did. The embrace he met her with wasn’t kind or loving, it wasn’t there for comfort. It was a restraint because she had punched him, half unaware of when she’d made the decision to even swing.

“I deserved that.” His agreement wasn’t helping, it only made her feel undeniably insane.

Even in his grip, she couldn’t stop. She shoved at him, only vaguely aware of her own voice.

Screaming. She was screaming and most of it wasn’t actual language, just noise for the sake of an outlet. The other bits and pieces were senseless—thoughts crossing her mind too fast to process. She screamed because he had stolen her chance at peace, because his children hated her, because he had made her feel less than, because he had ruined her. She felt ruined. There was no way to leave, even if she did want to. He had manipulated her then and he was using her now, using her own emotions against her. Using his feelings which he had kept hidden under lock and key to make her happier.

She wasn’t happier.

He had been in the doorway, hadn’t passed into the room at all initially. She had crossed into his space and hit him and he’d grabbed her and squeezed, catching her hands between them where she was still pushing even as he stepped into the room and slid down the wall until they were in a heap on the floor.

The tears hadn’t stopped, traitorous fiends, and what few words were still tumbling out of her mouth didn’t even make sense to her. There was no attempt at hushing her, just acceptance or maybe resignation.

Once, very early on, she remembered him telling her that there was no way he could hurt her. His wolf wouldn’t let him. Bullshit, she bit him to stop herself because she was making a ruckus and embarrassing herself but neither his his nor the taste of his blood made her recoil. It did give her enough satisfaction, however, to draw a trembling breath before she fell limp altogether in his arms and rested her forehead on his now-bloodied shoulder.

“You hurt me.”

“I recognize that,” He was still agreeing with her and that alone was unnatural at best. “If you would like me to, I will do better.”

If she would like? She wasn’t very sure what she’d like, but that seemed an appropriate starting place. He should do better, should have been doing better this entire time if he thought she was worthy of his affection and appreciation.

Because she’d said it was love, what she felt from him, but was it? Was it anything more than recognition that she was good at her job, at her role as his mate.

“You have every reason to doubt me—“

She moved her hand from its place between their bodies to touch a finger to his lips and closed her eyes. Her body was still shaking, her head still on his shoulder. She should move, there wasn’t really a world where she wanted to wake up and actually have the conversation they needed to have. Right now, she needed to unpack it all.

Alone.

“That is…understandable. I can give you a day to think about it.”

One day to unpack two centuries of abuses.

How generous.

#mercy thompson series #patricia briggs #fanfiction #mercy thompson fanfiction #alpha and omega series

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 30 days ago

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Kings Pawn Game Ch. 30

“Mom told me growing up that you were the most honest person in Aspen Creek.” Tala crossed her arms, a little sour to the conversation. “You lied to me.”

Bran did nothing more than let out an amused-sounding breath of air. He wouldn’t be amused if he was being accused of lying and felt he had.

“I thought it would be convenient to know each other. I did not think you would wind up twice engaged to my grandson.” His casual shrug made her somehow more aggravated.

It didn’t matter if he didn’t think they’d be engaged. Nor, she felt, did it matter that the new light shed on the situation made Bran out to be even worse in her mind.

“I know you didn’t intend that, because it’s obvious you didn’t want that from the get go. You made it very clear the first time I came here that you didn’t like the idea of us dating.”

The first time, when she had finally ventured out of the house, Bran had aggravated her with his pretty apparent distaste for the circumstances. She had chewed him out publicly and in front of Cai before leaving.

“I’m upset because you knew there was a possibility he was dangerous.” It was hard to keep the accusatory tone from her voice when she was looking straight at him. “The convenience wasn’t us knowing each other. The convenience was me being possibly one of the only people who could shut him down. Are you certifiably mad? You sent two students into the world with no idea how to handle themselves completely alone and thought ‘it’s fine, they can probably just handle each other?’”

Of course he was mad. She knew that. There hadn’t been a time in her life when the Marrok had been stable. It was the worst kept secret in the circle of her mother, her father, and Cai’s family. Bran had been devolving for a while.

“We were children!” She snapped. “What if he went on a rampage through the school?”

“There was never an indication that would be a problem,” He sighed and then seemed to think again. “Until whatever happened in the library when you bumped into each other.”

Which was another problem. She hadn’t even known until then that they were attending the same university.

“There’s something different specifically about wolves that are born.” Was he seriously going to go on about the library now? “That shouldn’t have happened. I should have anticipated the possibility after Charles—“

“You’ve done it twice, haven’t you? Forced a mating bond on someone when you saw them. Maybe it’s more just genetic.” It was a poor choice and the wave of unadulterated rage that hit her made her fall to the floor without so much as a chance of fighting the instinct.

Tala bit her tongue and didn’t look up, but she wasn’t going to apologize either.

Asshole.

Cai hovered very suddenly at the back of her mind the way he did when he was trying to read, like he was standing in a doorway. He couldn’t do that, they’d learned, with others at a distance. It was hard to tell if she’d done something to clue him in or if she had managed to make Bran so angry that he’d reached further than just their immediate area.

Still alive.

Hopefully he heard that.

“I did not lie to you. At the end of the day, Cai’s options were always going to be here or with your father. You being more similar to your mother than maybe we initially realized was convenient. When it came on my radar indirectly from Europe, I thought it might give you both the chance to live outside of the parameters we had set for both of you.“

Because her father knew the barebones, she had always known that.

“Omission is lying.”

“Omission is failing to mention that your mate is listening in.” The way in which he dismissed it as if it were something so trivial irked her.

That he knew anything at all gave her pause. Tala and Cai had worked specifically so that she was in a place where she could be pretty certain her mind wasn’t being read without her knowledge, now knowing that was a possibility for certain. There were tells and it wasn’t hard to notice them, but to be constantly aware was a challenge.

She didn’t find any of them with Bran.

“I should have known it when you were younger.” The anger being directed inward was somehow more unsettling that it being directed at her. “I would have kept my brother here. You never should have come into that on your own and untrained.”

Not reading her mind, then. The Marrok just inherently recognized something and was now trusting she would manage to relay that in real time.

Cai wasn’t seeing through her eyes or anything—she’d managed to figure out how to not do that—so she felt a little offended that Bran was speaking to him directly.

“Stand up, Evelyn.”

“Don’t say it.” Cai’s voice warned.

Tala bit her cheek and silenced a remark about him suddenly having a preference for her given name. Bran had told her mother it was a silly choice, too easy for anyone to guess even if they hadn’t “foolishly” gone public with it by accident. Cai had heard the full story more recently and told her. It felt like a piece of her had been stolen in a sense, as if her identity had always been manipulated and molded.

Instead of speaking, Tala stood slowly, carefully and intentionally keeping her eyes trained on the ground. She would have anyways, but she was still angry.

“Yesterday, you told me that you were aware of what I had told your mother.” His voice held no hint of the anger mere moments before, but she wasn’t fooled. It was there. “It was not because I feared what you would be. Charles was managed. Cai had been born by the time I found out about you, and I was confident at the time we would manage him as well. My only opinion regarding you was in the interest of your mother’s health. That remains the only concern I have regarding you, even in light of recent discoveries.”

“Yes, sir.” She tried, and failed, to not make it sound as sarcastic as it did.

It had been a long time since she’d spoken like that with any inkling of respect. Twenty years, maybe, because she had been a child.

Bran huffed, probably thinking the same thing. But he stepped closer, making her vibrate more with the urge to disappear than anything else. When he rested his hand on top of her head, she tensed but still didn’t glance upward.

That he leaned his forehead on top of the hand was weird. If she thought back, maybe he’d done it before. She thought certainly her dad had once or twice when she was small.

“I have trusted you for a very long time, Evelyn Hauptman, and with some very important things even if you never realized. You were fourteen when you ran away. Recognize that it was not those surrounding you that I trusted, but you.” He sighed. “Your father would have dragged you back kicking and screaming. If I had ever thought you truly comparable to your mother, I would have let him.”

It was obvious he was trying to placate her and it put her more on edge, especially having his hand on her head.

“I am not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t think you will.” She told him, perfectly honestly. “You’ve killed enough people that I shouldn’t even feel it.”

The rumbling was definitely laughter. Too many emotions in the span on three minutes had her head spinning a little.

“Even if you do plan to kill me,” Because he might be laughing, but he hadn’t moved his hand. “I want you to answer a question.”

He hummed.

“Evie, we’re not even that far behind you. Just give me a second.”

Of course he would be following her at this point. They’d made it pretty far, all the way back to the cars before the Marrok had stopped her to speak privately again.

“You knew Cai was anchoring me. I always had problems, but I had never stopped healing before.” Because she wanted to set the record straight. “Did you suspect that would happen?”

“Yes.”

Interesting.

“But you didn’t intentionally set me up, even knowing that I would maybe be better tied to pack magic if I…”

“Setting someone up and thinking something might happen are two very different things, Evelyn.” Coyote was right, then, she had just misinterpreted it.

She would accept that and whatever fate she had coming for her given the circumstances.

“Coyote told me someone was betting on him.” She agreed, closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath.

“He also mentioned that the witch was one of mine. I didn’t remember survivors of our line behind Cai. I apologize that I let one slip.”

The Marrok didn’t apologize often. Tala thought back to the conversation, though.

Raven. Coyote had mentioned a raven, lowercase “r”, was related.

“Raven.” Cai had come, and the second set of footsteps would be Charles. “I should have put that together sooner.”

The Marrok didn’t move.

“Distant cousin, then? From my father, presumably, unless one of yours survived?”

Tala suspected the Marrok maybe didn’t remember. There were children of Samuel’s who didn’t survive the Change. She hadn’t ever heard if they’d reproduced before that.

She flicked her wrist hoping Cai caught the gesture now that he wasn’t depending on her mind for information. She didn’t want him too close, not while she still wasn’t sure what was happening.

There was a moment where she would swear the hand on her head moved, fingers tightening to grip her hair. Her head was pulled back, more gently than she would have expected. Cai growled but she managed not to react herself beyond squeezing her eyes shut. If she looked now, Tala was certain she would hold his gaze too long. She was still too on edge to think rationally.

“Neither of my sons has felt the draw to lead on their own,” He told her, almost thoughtfully. “That it was one of Adam’s always interested me a little. It might suggest that it’s more nurture than it is nature, as he raised two very strong daughters.”

It was intentional, the way she let him more gently tug her head to the side so he could whisper in a way that she would swear neither Cai nor Charles would have heard.

“You have never taken ten steps back.”

#mercy thompson series #fanfiction #patricia briggs #fanfic #mercy thompson fanfiction #mercy thompson #alpha and omega series

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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The Entire Properly AU in One Place

Summaries below

Properly:

“Does Mercy know anything about me?” Anna asked him before they cut the engine.

She didn’t sound nervous, but her pulse had quickened and the adrenaline kicked in giving away her fear.

“She knows you’re important to me.” Charles tried to veil his frustration with the way his own brother had introduced the concept of Anna without ever speaking of her as a person by name. “And, through no fault of my own, she believes us to be dating.”

Or married.

1/1 Posted

Song 2:

“You didn’t happen to learn anything regarding mental health during your time in couple’s counseling?”

1/1 Posted

Of Green-Eyed Monsters and Plastic Recorders:

“You certainly seem comfortable.” Mercy commented, trying to keep the disdain out of her voice at the slight of the entirely wrong red wolf lazily resting his head on Anna’s hip. Ben closed the eye he had cracked open upon her entry and huffed without otherwise moving.

2/2 Posted

Have You Heard a Grandmother Describe How She Met Her Husband?:

“You said,” Charles had said, actually, “That you were sixteen when you were together?”

There wasn’t really a good way to spin that, not if Mercy was only in her thirties. If she was thirteen-hundred, maybe Anna could make an exception for her thinking it was ok.

“Sixteen when I was sent away from Aspen Creek.” Mercy agreed, but Anna wasn’t sure if she was intentionally avoiding a straight answer or if that was how Mercy thought of the situation.

“That’s creepy, Mercy.”

1/1 Posted

Calm Before the Storm:

“A double date.” Mercy repeated the suggestion.

“So it’s like when two couples go out together—“

“I know what a double date is, Anna.”

2/2 Posted

#mercy thompson series #fanfiction #patricia briggs #mercy thompson fanfiction #alpha and omega series #mercy thompson #charles and anna

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Lil bit of a sequel but with Adam and Mercy here.

Hey! I really like your Alpha and Omega fics. You said that you take requests so if you ever have time could you write an alternate universe fic where Charles gets to spend some time courting Anna instead of immediately taking her to Montana (which is something he mentioned wanting to do in On The Prowl)

“No, you definitely cannot do that.”

Samuel’s voice was boiling over with amusement on the other end of the phone call as Charles described his predicament.

“And da said what?”

“Send her to Adam.” Charles closed his eyes, thoroughly defeated by the sound of his brother’s cackling laughter and his own predicament.

Over the moon infatuated, that’s what he was. He couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of his mind when he told her that he would be back. It was killing him not to already be back, but there were things to sort out and paperwork to handle now that Leo and Isabella were dead.

Anna. Brother Wolf reminded him of her name, as if he could forget any piece of her that she’d share. Mate.

“What does my sister-in-law want?” Samuel was laying this on thick for his benefit.

And yet, was good to hear him laughing. It put Charles at ease just as much as it put him on edge.

What did Anna want? He had only asked her a million times. She didn’t want to stay in Chicago, even with Boyd she was—not broken. Anna wasn’t broken.

She was hurting.

A pang of guilt struck him for having left her, but it was just as much for her benefit. The Omega settled the wolf, but Charles was finding the man a problem which was not something he was used to dealing with.

Gut instinct told him to take her with him. Anna was hurting and anxious in a pack that had caused her harm before. When he ran the idea by his da, he’d received a goofy grin—he could hear it in his voice—and a reminder that creating a situation where she was entirely dependent on him was manipulative and, given the circumstances, cruel. Same issue caused the next best thing (furnishing her apartment and putting food on the table) to be shot down. He got by with getting her a better job, but that had been against his father’s advice as well.

Because somehow being the reason she got the job was also detrimental to her mental health and general well-being. His brother had only just agreed with everything he had already had thrown back in his face by their shared parent.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t ask her?”

Charles had asked, and that was part of the dilemma, too. She hadn’t been in a good mind space when he’d suggested coming to Montana and then she had felt guilted into it. When she felt confident enough a few hours later, she brought it up again and said she might like to stick around a little longer.

Take a trip out to her family now that her nightmare was over.

That she didn’t want to stay in Boyd’s pack longer than she had to, but that following blindly just because he told her how he felt didn’t put her any more at ease.

“I don’t think, at this time, that she is of sound enough mind to make a decision like that.” Charles said finally. “And she feels she would like to learn a little more about it all before she jumps headfirst again. They kept many secrets from her. And that’s how it stands.”

“You mean to do this properly then,” His brother was definitely still grinning. “Da is right. Adam’s would be safest.”

Adam would be safest. Of course, there were still plenty of downsides. Adam was relatively recently divorced and unmated, so he was entirely unspoken for. Charles didn’t think Anna would find that to be a problem, but he certainly felt it was going to be a problem. Adam Hauptman was, as he understood it, not at all unattractive.

There was also the matter of that wolf there who had unsavory problems, Charles thought his name might have been Ben. Ben lived there, that was one to look out for.

Then there was his brother who Charles suspected wasn’t quite well, though his energy in this conversation suggested otherwise.

The image was already forefront on his mind of Samuel sitting far too close to Anna for Charles’ own comfort. He bit his tongue to keep from growling at the thought of Samuel’s arm around her in a vision that hadn’t even happened.

There was rustling on the other end of the line.

“Everything ok?” Charles came back down to earth for the moment.

“Can’t ever find anything in Mercy’s place. I’m not sure how she survived before I started putting forks back in their proper utensil slots.” Samuel snorted.

That explained the metallic clinking he was hearing, then.

And it also reminded him of another precarious detail about Adam’s and what sending Anna there entailed.

Mercy. Aptly named, if you looked at those whose lives she had touched, except maybe his brother’s.

“Where would she live?” Charles sighed finally, giving in.

They were both right. Adam’s would be safest short term, even if he wanted Aspen Creek to be best for her. He did hope it would be short term.

Samuel hummed some tune that Charles recognized innately but blocked out with his own thoughts.

“She could bunk with Mercy. Small room, but it might do her good to have a female roommate.”

“Mercy doesn’t do well with female wolves,” Rather, most female wolves didn’t do well with Mercy. “It would be impolite to ask her to put one up in her home.”

Charles suspected that might have been Leah’s doing and not Mercy’s own ability to get under everyone’s skin in a lovably, very-coyote fashion. Nonetheless, it would make Mercy uncomfortable.

And this was of course forgetting that Mercy was already sharing in more ways than one. Samuel had stolen her spare room and Adam shared her back fence.

Asking for more of her was in poor taste.

“Adam’s is out of the question even for a little?” Samuel tried. “He has a daughter she might like, you said she’s young. Adam would give her plenty of space and he wouldn’t step on toes.”

It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t “step on toes” so to speak. Charles would feel like his toes were being stepped on, regardless.

“If she was ok with it, maybe.” That was a lie and even over the phone his brother knew it and laughed, but this time it didn’t sound quite right.

Charles would circle back to that later when he had time to consider it.

“If you’re worried she can be stolen, maybe try wooing her a little better, brother.”

“Isabelle liked Adam.” Because his brain supplied the information.

Samuel laughed again, but this time for real.

“Isabelle would have taken any wolf with a heartbeat to her bed.” That was true, too. “If she hadn’t tried to sleep with him, I understand that she and Christy may have gotten along.”

Apparently, Samuel was calling to mind the same incident.

He was stuck at square one again.

“What do you want me to suggest?” Samuel sighed, but then he added, “Adam has a wolf who calls herself Honey. Her mate, Peter, is submissive. She could feel safe there.”

Charles knew Honey. She and Peter both were old, submissive wolves tended to live long lives, and they’d crossed paths a few times.

“Would Adam suggest it?” Charles questioned, thinking about the possibility very seriously.

There were boxes to check before they could even get that far. The Tri-Cities weren’t the perfect spot as far as location accessibility, but he could pull off the commute. He would happily pull off the commute for Anna’s sake.

Samuel said something along the lines of “probably” while Charles was lost momentarily in thought. Somewhere on the other end of the call was the distinct sound of a key scraping into a lock and the familiar “click” of said lock releasing before a door opened.

“Do you always lock Mercy out of her own home?” Charles asked just as Samuel was greeting his roommate.

Mercy stilled, he could tell without being in the room because he suddenly didn’t hear her. Any phone call he had with his brother was done intentionally when Samuel was either in the car or Mercy wasn’t home. She was prone to be a little skittish, their coyote.

Or, if he were being honest, she was more prone to being angry.

“Charles called to tell me some great news,” For all intents and purposes, Samuel sounded incredibly casual and unbothered by Mercy’s clear discomfort.

“Which is?” Mercy sounded not the least bit interested, but at least she took the bait.

“Family reunion, Mercy,” His brother told her. “Charles wants us to meet the new sister-in-law.”

Closing his eyes, Charles tried not to wonder if the kiss he had just heard was on the lips or on the forehead. It could go either way with Samuel and it wasn’t a relationship he needed all the information on in this moment. In fact, he was actively trying to stay out of it and hoped his father knew what he was doing.

They’d almost lost him already. Mercy might be a death sentence.

“Oh, Mercy, it’ll be like the good old days!”

Mercy had groaned.

Were there any good old days? Charles thought wryly about the crashed car and the peanut butter. There was the time she’d forgotten to close the pasture gate. Couldn’t forget the mystery of the missing left shoes. The disaster that was his father discovering Samuel and Mercy’s plot to run away—Charles still wondered where Samuel thought he would be able to disappear to that they couldn’t find him fast enough. Once upon a time, she had numbered no less than thirty-four toy ducks. There might have been more than thirty-four—they were currently numbered up to 1076, but they doubted there were that many. Only thirty-four were discovered.

Charles had been almost disappointed in Mercy at the time when he learned that they hadn’t been real ducks.

There was, of course, the Watergate Scandal. That might’ve been a “good old day”, he supposed with a small smile. The three of them had laughed, at the very least. Hundreds of tiny cups of water peppered the floor like little landmines. Mercy had started the trail at the front door and meticulously covered the entire home, including the basement stairs. They were pretty sure she exited over the garage and hopped down off the roof there, but Charles himself had never asked.

Leah’s scream of frustration could have been heard for miles when she came home the following morning. His father had come straight home from his business trip to see what the fuss was and to make Mercy clean it up. The Marrok then proceeded in through an upper story window thinking the water was only blocking the door.

He was wrong.

Charles and Samuel had helped Mercy clean up that prank. They might have indirectly been involved with the acquisition (and storage) of the millions of cups.

Memories of Mercedes were a strange combination of fond recollections of innocent pranks and then reminders of her delicate mortality and trusting nature. Those that fell into the latter category made him grit his teeth and wonder how none of them had succumbed to heart attacks or aneurysms. Surely, the frequency at which they’d had them should be deadly even to werewolves.

“Are the good old days in the room with us?”

Charles found himself hiding a smile from no one. He was alone in his home after all.

“We’ve had plenty of good times.” Was that an intentional double entendre or was Charles reading too deeply into a circumstance he still didn’t understand?

He couldn’t decide and thought maybe it would be best if he didn’t try and work that one out. He would come to learn more than he necessarily wanted to know if this all came to fruition.

“Wait, did you say ‘sister-in-law?’”

***

Very little went according to plan, as was typical with Mercedes Thompson. It was only a few weeks later that Charles found himself in the car with Anna on their way to Mercy’s trailer home.

Apparently, years of emotional abuse from the Marrok’s mate had not dampened her desire to help when someone needed it—even when that someone was a female werewolf.

“Oh, so she’s your sister!” Anna smiled brightly.

Charles’ heart warmed. He loved it when she smiled, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle and the edges crinkled upwards. She stuck her tongue between her front teeth sometimes, when she was trying not to laugh, and it was so obvious she was laughing anyways. It made him want to laugh aloud just from watching her.

“She might not like that comparison,” He shouldn’t have been smiling, but hers was so contagious. “Mercy didn’t have an easy time in Aspen Creek.”

That was maybe saying the least. He was sure Anna, of all people, would be able to get the story out of Mercy. Charles was an adult watching Mercy grow up, fairly complicit in how she was being raised. With Bryan and Evelyn, it had been ok, Mercy had grown up as normally as a coyote in a wolf pack could.

But then things had happened. Circumstances had changed. Lives were lost and Mercy was left stranded somewhere in the middle.

“And your brother doesn’t think of her the same way?”

“I don’t know what he thinks.” Charles admitted as honestly as he could. “Theirs is a unique history.”

Maybe not that unique, Charles thought while casting a sideways glance at her. Anna herself was little more than a child when she had undergone the Change against her will under horrifically traumatic circumstances. That was only a few short years ago and the years hadn’t proven kind to her in the least bit.

It was partly that reason, he supposed, that they were doing this—that he had even agreed to this. It wasn’t the age gap that upset him, theirs was tame by the standard of some others. It was the dynamic.

Charles didn’t consider himself a saviour by any stretch of the imagination and, truth be told, Anna had entirely saved herself from her biggest monsters. But she was fresh out of a situation where she had been intentionally made to feel weaker, to feel dependent on someone’s kindness, to cater to someone because of the dependency. He would be playing a dangerous game keeping her fed with a roof over her head, most especially in a town off the beaten path where she knew no one but him.

Safe. Mine.

Yes, he thought, very dangerous.

“And Mercy is a coyote, but you don’t know really how she is?” Anna recapped.

Not entirely, and he explained as much. Charles knew there used to be plenty of people like Mercy. He had met, he thought, at least one. Although, they hadn’t been a coyote.

He definitely would have known.

But he didn’t know what she was beyond the idea that others had once existed. Seemingly, the knowledge had disappeared with the people who would have held it.

There was a wave of sadness at the thought, one that Anna washed away with her own tsunami of peace.

“You said at home the spirits sometimes speak to you,” Anna began. “That they like you? They didn’t tell you what she is?”

“It would seem,” Charles smiled a little fondly at a memory of a coyote pup disappearing into the surrounding woods for a disastrously long and successful (for Mercy) game of hide-and-seek. “That they like her more.”

They turned, finally, upon the road Mercy’s home was on according to the address Samuel had sent.

It was one Charles already knew like the back of his hand. He had Mercy’s number memorized, too, if you asked him to recite it—both her shop and her cell.

And he’d throw in Margi’s for good measure if Anna were asking.

It wasn’t until they had parked that Charles realized that Anna had been the only person he had ever confided in about Mercy. It was possible even the coyote herself didn’t know how he felt about her. Samuel had always been the one to love kids. As he grew older, certainly as decades turned into centuries, Charles had come to assume that key part of his brother’s nature was why he’d taken to him despite all their centuries difference in age. Mercy, knowing her from practically-birth to sixteen and then even longer from afar…

He had come to realize sometimes the age difference in a family didn’t matter. Mercy was as much his sister as Samuel was a brother, even if she weren’t blood.

And—maybe most importantly—Anna wasn’t jealous.

Charles knew Anna was able to feel that way about him, and it had been incredibly satisfying to come to know it even if he discovered it at possibly the most inopportune time.

“Does Mercy know anything about me?” Anna asked him before they cut the engine.

She didn’t sound nervous, but her pulse had quickened and the adrenaline kicked in giving away her fear.

Or married.

“Well,” And she at least sounded amused now as her freckles nearly blended into her undeniably blushing cheeks. “We did go on one date, so I guess it could qualify us as dating.”

One date which had ended incredibly poorly with an attempt on his life which had fortunately missed but caused them to quickly return to her home and regroup before meeting Leo and his poor-shot of a mate.

“We could try again,” Charles suggested, “While I’m here.”

Anna smiled, tongue between her teeth because he himself had made her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? I’d like that, I think.”

Even over the engine and outside the home, he could hear his brother’s cackle.

#mercy thompson series

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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All parts are now up. You can use the link above to see them in order

Could you do a story about what would be different between Bran and Mercy if Leah wasn't around.

Oof. As a teacher, I don’t particularly like this pairing in this context. And there isn’t truly an opportunity for a world where Leah didn’t exist, naturally. But I shall try. It’s going to probably have to be in two parts, because I needed to give it a background.

I have gone ahead and put part one up here.

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Could you do a story about what would be different between Bran and Mercy if Leah wasn't around.

I have gone ahead and put part one up here.

#mercy thompson series #patricia briggs #mercy thompson fanfiction #mercy thompson #alpha and omega series

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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So Burn Bright went more into Charles feelings he had for Mercy as a sister. How he went out of his way to protect her and get some of the pack involved in helping. And how Mercy also taught him a few things. Could you do a story of Charles first meeting Mercy and then later on realizing that he thought of her as a little sister. And how their relationship evolved from the beginning to what it is now.

That someone was knocking on the door was unusual. Charles looked up briefly from the book he was reading and frowned, puzzled. His father and brother were the two individuals who entered his home. His brother lived to invade his space.

His father might call before hand or otherwise communicate that he was on his way, but he wouldn’t knock. It was out of character.

And the door—they all knew—was almost never locked.

The knock came again and then a familiar but disgruntled huff.

His father, then.

Charles made note of the page he was on, but the book wasn’t particularly interesting. It was some sort of fantasy book Samuel swore he’d find funny, but he was halfway through and he still wasn’t laughing.

He opened the door, fully prepared to ask what was wrong, and then a coyote pup wriggled its way out of his father’s grasp and sprinted in its own wobbly way through his entry way.

Charles quickly spun and scooped it up. Fast, the little critter was, but short little legs could only get you so far.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He held it back out to his father by the scruff.

“That’s a human child.” His father corrected him, taking it back into his arms.

That explained the diaper that had taken a tumble out of his father’s arms when the pup did.

“And her name is Mercedes.”

A silence settled between them because Charles truly did not know what to say to that. He had seen a lot of things in his life, but a human child that turned into a coyote was not—

“Walker.” Charles crossed his arms.

His father hummed his agreement, adjusting the pup so he was holding her not unlike the human baby that he said she was. Charles watched her closely.

He hadn’t met one of Coyote’s before, but he had met one of Raven’s and Raven was similarly cunning.

“Where is her family?”

“Her mother is seventeen, actually, and has dropped her on our doorstep.” He sounded too cheery and Charles wondered if it was for the benefit of the child.

He himself wasn’t good with children.

“I need you to take care of her while I find a suitable family.”

His father must have sensed the hesitation and the wariness. Charles didn’t think himself superstitious, but a child of Coyote was probably not something he wanted to invite into his sanctuary.

And, again, the issue of her being a baby.

“Where’s Samuel?” Charles asked, not removing his eyes from the pup as she playfully snarled and tugged at the collar of his father’s t-shirt.

Bran Cornick, for all of his boyish appearance, gave his son a fairly dangerous smile. It was the type of smile that told Charles his father wasn’t quite going to get angry, but he was going to chastise him if he didn’t listen without too many questions.

“Samuel is managing some business for me.”

“Samuel likes children,” He loved children, actually. Charles had been practically raised by him at some points in his early life and had mostly fond memories.

From what he could immediately recall.

“Yes,” Bran agreed with a tone one might use to exchange fake pleasantries. “Charles, it will be a few days at the most.”

“Why can’t Leah?”

Two centuries and he hadn’t learned this lesson. His father’s power washed over him in a way that even had the pup silenced. Charles trained his gaze on the ground.

“Leah has a hard time with babies” Understatement, Charles thought as he again recalled his own childhood. “And she doesn’t like walkers”

Leah, he thought to himself, didn’t like him either. It might be more to do with her own heritage and upbringing than his father was willing to admit.

He accepted the baby, Mercedes, this time when she was handed to him. Unlike his father, however, he gripped her by the scruff when he pressed her against his shoulder.

His father grimaced.

“Gently, Charles, she’s a baby.”

“She’s a puppy right now.” Charles countered.

And he didn’t want her squirming out onto the floor again. That was a far drop and what would come of her if she changed mid-fall?

As if sensing his thoughts—and Charles wasn’t convinced that his father couldn’t read minds no matter how often he denied it—Bran smiled.

But his expression turned serious not a moment later.

“Do you know any of hers?”

Charles shook his head, wincing when tiny teeth gnawed on his collarbone.

“The man I knew is long gone now.” And he sighed, thinking about him brought back not-so-fond memories. “His people are gone, too.”

Many of them were.

His father nodded, turning on his heel to return to his car to retrieve supplied—bottles, formula, diapers, and clothing he insisted were called “onesies”.

“They don’t have tail holes.” Charles pressed his lips in a line. “She’s a baby, she can’t be naked?”

“She’ll catch a cold, Charles. How old are you now, you can’t care for a baby?”

Charles didn’t know that his father could. He had been missing for a good chunk of his early childhood.

“And this,” His father gestured to the box that contained it all, “Is where she can sleep. There’s a little mattress in the bottom of it.”

“You’re handing me an abandoned puppy…in a box.”

They both stared at each other for just a moment before they laughed.

***

Charles, if he were being fully honest, was feeling a little ambushed. His brother, his father, and Bryan were all stood in the office and they clearly had a conversation before he arrived. They didn’t even wait to jump in. Charles had hardly taken off his snow-covered coat before Bran was suggesting he teach their coyote some tricks.

Mercedes, they called her Mercy more often now, was only eight.

“You would be doing her such a favor.” Bryan told him, as if that was going to sell it.

Charles met his father’s eyes for a split second before looking away, frustrated to be cornered. He liked Bryan, Bryan was good people.

“It’s not a favor.” Charles disagreed shortly, turning and leaving the office.

He was halfway down the hall before he heard someone move after him.

“I’ll talk to him.” His brother, Samuel, was quickly catching up.

It was only a split second longer before Samuel’s hand was gripping his upper arm and Charles allowed himself to be dragged out to the yard.

“What is wrong with you?” Samuel snarled, which meant he was actually angry for real. Charles knew his brother preferred keeping things light. “You’re acting like you’re fifteen again.”

“She isn’t my responsibility.” Charles tried to walk away again and crossed his arms when his way was blocked.

“So you act like when da brought Leah home again?”

Charles was ten when that happened. He remembered it distinctly because she had been awful to him, even then. He met his brother’s eyes briefly and watched as realization dawned upon him.

He hoped to be let in on what his brother had just realized soon.

“You’re jealous.” Samuel snorted. “Da likes her and you’re jealous.”

“I am not—“ Charles didn’t even know what to say to that. “I’m not jealous. She’s a child who needs help, her mother was a child who needed help. Why would you ever believe that?”

Margi was actually wholly capable of taking care of herself, but she was not a match for a coyote.

Samuel grinned, the childishly playful one he had when he was torturing his brother by choice. Charles had unluckily discovered that no matter the fact they hadn’t grown up together, Samuel was dead set on riling him up as if they were both the children that he was being accused of acting like.

“Da is paying more attention to her than to you, and you don’t like it.” Samuel taunted and Charles could picture it, he could picture himself strangling his brother right here in their father’s back yard.

“I don’t like being ambushed by a room full of people who think I need to be teaching Mercedes about what she. She is not my daughter. I didn’t agree to take her in.”

“We’re her family, baby brother.” There was the charm.

Charles kept from rolling his eyes and again tried to remove himself from the situation. He wasn’t stopped this time, but his brother did walk alongside him.

“There are things you can teach her.”

“She looks like her mother,” Charles told his brother, picking up the pace just a little to try and get to his car sooner. “And that is good for her. She should lean into that.”

“You don’t think she should learn about who she is?”

Without even thinking, because his reaction was more emotional that he wanted to acknowledge, Charles spun and shoved him. Stumbling half a step, Samuel met his gaze, clearly shocked by the outburst.

He was reserved, everyone said so. Reacting wasn’t something he usually did, not like that.

“Contrary to what you and da seem to want to tell yourselves, Mercedes and I are not the same people. I don’t know anything about how she should have been raised. What I know of the language is because I lived here in Montana, not because it was my own.” He snapped. “And, because it is entirely lost on the both of you, it isn’t safe for her. It is not safe to be an indigenous woman in this country in this year and it is not safe for her to run with wolves.”

There was no way his father hadn’t heard that outburst, even from the house.

“Brother—“ Samuel followed him again, picking up his own pace to catch up just as Charles was getting into his car.

The older wolf leaned against the door as soon as he’d closed it and Charles closed his eyes. It took him a moment before he put in the effort to roll down the window.

Even though he could have heard Samuel through it perfectly fine.

“I am sorry. We are being insensitive.”

To say the least.

“It would be nice if you taught her what you can. Mercy is not a witch, and yours is going to be the closest magic.” And then, because he really wanted to twist Charles’ arm and get him to just say yes to whatever it was everyone wanted. “I am sorry, brother. I will try to be more mindful. I forget you still remember your family.”

And, because Charles could play the same game, he rolled his window back up (one day he would appreciate how much more ridiculous manually rolling the window was) and said “I am sorry you can’t recall any of yours.”

***

“He doesn’t like me.” The tween whined.

Charles inwardly groaned. He never should have caved and let her convince him to put her on a horse. Mercy was going through a phase—apparently all girls did—and he was going to lose it.

“Pick his head up.” This was rapidly becoming a catchphrase.

With all of the skill of a practiced horseman, Charles backed his horse up the few strides to land beside her again and leaned over. A little pressure on her the neck had her horse picking his head right back up.

“Well, I can’t do that if I’m sitting on him.” She huffed.

“No, that’s why you have reins.” And while he appreciated that Mercy didn’t yank on his horse’s mouths, he found it incredibly annoying that she couldn’t just keep them from eating on the trail. “I’d prefer you not let him eat everything, they have sensitive stomachs.”

Charles would swear they were growing more and more sensitive by the generation.

“I’m trying.”

His nose told him that she was lying.

Curious.

She realized he had caught on and smiled sheepishly as he raised an eyebrow.

Well played, sister.

Charles didn’t dwell on Brother Wolf’s choice of phrase too much.

Instead, he made a quick kissing noise, barely lifting a hand to keep his own mount from taking off because he knew better than to just go off a vocal cue.

Let her figure out how to use the reins to stop herself of she could flip over the pony’s head when he inevitably stopped to eat.

She’d recover.

***

It was as if ice water had been dumped over him. Charles couldn’t process the words coming from his father’s mouth.

“Gone?” He repeated hollowly.

“She’s old enough that I thought it might be time for her to live with her mother again.”

It wasn’t a lie, Charles knew it wasn’t a lie. It felt like a lie, though. His father loved their coyote, he never would have sent her away.

“I don’t understand. This is the only home she has ever known.” Gone.

“She has a family, Charles.” Bran repeated sounding angry now. “Margi is her mother.”

His father had no right to be angry. He had been the one to take her in, to take on the responsibility of this walker child. And in turn, he had passed responsibility to Charles to train her and teach her and—

“Gone?” He said again.

“Charles, she is gone.”

A rage Charles hadn’t expected bubbled up inside of him. He needed to leave the room and handle this before he spoke to his father again. There were too many words he wanted to have with him, too many things he thought he saw and then he remembered Samuel.

Between the two of them, Charles didn’t know who he was angrier with.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. His father knew where he was going and if he wanted to intervene, he could stop him right then and there.

And he didn’t.

Charles drove all the way to Samuel��s home. It wasn’t far, they all lived close by Aspen Creek standards (which was to say that “close” was relative). He thought driving would bring back the human side of things, make him focus on something other than the unyielding desire for blood.

“Charles?” Samuel met him at the door in surprise.

“What was it you said? ‘She’s our family,’ was that it?” Charles snarled. “What kind of family—“

“What are you talking about?”

He knew. Everyone knew what had transpired between the two of them, even if Charles had only discovered the worst of it.

The feeling of his hand making contact with his brother’s face wasn’t satisfying enough, even when he heard the crunch. He might have preferred actually bashing his face in, if he could stomach it.

But inside of him, he knew it was his brother and the darkest, blackest parts of his should couldn’t even stand to break that.

“What the actual fuck?” His nose was bleeding and Samuel rarely cursed, specifically he rarely cursed in English.

He’d switched to Welsh and Charles had barely noticed.

“You staked a claim on her?”

He didn’t have time to read the emotion that flashed across his brother’s face.

“Charles, what happened?”

And Charles realized that Samuel actually had no idea what had happened, what their father had done to protect their coyote.

His father hadn’t stopped him, because he didn’t want to tell Samuel and Charles had fallen into a trap again.

“She’s gone back to Margi.” Adrenaline was still pumping and he really considered punching the man in front of him again for good measure. “I’m not allowed to contact her on your behalf.”

Wasn’t allowed to contact her at all except to help with her banking, because he had all of her access.

“She is sixteen.” Charles snarled for good measure. “And she was ours to care for.”

***

“When Mercy was sixteen,” Anna began and Charles tensed.

They were alone with his father at their home. True to nature, she was bringing this up while baking something Mercy had given her the recipe for.

He loved, not-so-secretly, that they spoke.

His father hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“You sent her away because of Samuel?”

Samuel, his brother, whose child was asleep in her cot in their bedroom. She would wake if Anna upset his father now and then her nap schedule would be amiss.

Bran’s eyes fell on him, instead of on Anna, with a question in them.

One Charles didn’t have an answer to. He didn’t know where this was going.

“Are Leah’s feelings because of her own history which she didn’t remember, Bran?” Anna turned to him, hands on her hips, “Or are they founded in something else?”

His father smiled and Charles’ blood ran cold, but his Anna was unphased and smiled sweetly back with all of the strength of a woman who had faced down the worst monsters one could face in her comparatively short years.

“Both?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge when he still didn’t answer. “The babe that sleeps under my roof might be your granddaughter, but you will never be allowed alone with her.”

And Charles realized she had put into words something that might have been keeping him up at night.

***

They hadn’t been to Mercy’s home since the wedding. Charles wasn’t often out that way, and there wasn’t much need to be.

Mercy—fortunately or unfortunately—tended to handle trouble singlehandedly.

The other alphas in this country could learn a thing or two from her, he thought with a sort of smugness as he watched his mate interact with her.

Cerys, his daughter for all intents and purposes, was toddling around now. It gave him anxiety, watching her stand and fall and stand and fall in some sort of torturous cycle.

Adam cast him a sympathetic glance.

“It doesn’t get easier.”

Great.

Anna glanced back at him to see what they were talking about. It only took her a moment to catch on.

“Looking forward to doing it again?” She smiled at Adam and Charles got to see her holding Mercy’s daughter. “Methinks my niece is going to be something to reckon with, just like her cousin!”

Seeing her with a baby again made Charles’ heart ache. Cerys had only just been a baby not that long ago.

And there was little to no chance of a repeat.

Charles never thought he would ever desire another in a million years—not before children and not after months of sleepless nights.

“I am actually,” Adam laughed, “Never thought I would have the chance.”

He must’ve been a mind reader as well. Charles took a deep breath.

Anna approached him, reading his hesitation, bouncing the little bundle in her arms and pulling the blanket back just enough so that he could see the baby’s face. She didn’t look entirely unlike Mercy as an infant.

“She’s beautiful, Mercy.” He found himself smiling at the memory of a little coyote gnawing on the box she was meant to be sleeping in at one in the morning. “Have you named her?”

When he looked up, Mercy had wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest and resting her chin on top as if she were watching him closely.

“Evelyn.”

#mercy thompson series #patricia briggs #mercy thompson fanfiction

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Fanfic author ask meme

My first ask meme, and one that’s been on my mind for a while! Feel free to reblog for your it for yourself, answer them, or ask me for my answers! Read more break after 10/50 to help keep this from clogging any dashboards

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Keep reading

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Anna: It’s a cross between Jack Skellington and a Winnebago

Charles: A cross between Jack Skellington and a camper van?

Anna: I meant wedingo. I get those confused.

Mercy: Sometimes I look at a Wedingo and I think it looks like a Winnebago.

Samuel: Slenderman?

#incorrect quotes #mercy thompson series #mercy Thompson series incorrect quotes #based off an actual series of exchanges in a group chat

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Hi! I love your stories about Porsche and Ben, could you give us more stories of them?

TW: Miscarriage/ectopic pregnancy

"Mom, remember when I drove you to the hospital years ago--" Porsche gritted over the phone. It wasn't every day she called her mom for a hospital trip. In all reality, it had never happened before.

But, she had driven her mother enough times to lose count.

"Porsche, are you ok?"

"I need you to pick me up." Her stomach hadn't ever cramped so badly in her life. It felt like a period on steroids and she hadn't stopped vomiting since Ben left that morning.

"Does anyone know?" Mercy asked her, but her daughter could hear keys being pulled off the hook.

"No."

That had been this morning. Now, she was sitting in an emergency room. The scent of bleach washed around them and made them both a little dizzy, Porsche less so than her mother. She was used to it by this point.

"Last period?" The nurse clicked away at the computer.

"I don't remember, they're pretty inconsistent." She mumbled, glancing at her mom.

Mercy offered a small smile.

"We're going to need a urine sample." She wanted to growl at the nurse in front of her, but politely refrained.

"I have peed twice in the time since I got here, someone couldn't ask sooner?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Portia--"

"It's Dr. Hauptman--"

"Porsche," Mercy stopped her and then, glancing at the nurse, added, "Thank you."

A moment later she had already spun back to her daughter. "Ok, Dr. Hauptman, you couldn't have asked for a cup sooner?"

Porsche's jaw tightened and she let out a puff of air. She had been a little too distracted to think of procedure. The pain had been excruciating.

The nurse clicked away at the keyboard for a moment longer. Porsche closed her eyes, trying to ignore everything around them for just a moment.

"Have you told Ben?"

"You didn't tell dad, did you?" It wasn't a jab, the younger woman was scared. If her husband knew she was in the hospital, she'd never hear the end of it.

And if her dad knew, they her husband would know shortly.

"I assumed you would mention it to your dad when you felt it necessary." Mercy sat back in her chair and watched her daughter carefully.

"I'm not so sure I feel it necessary right now." Her hand flew to her side as she swung her legs over the side of the cot in order to find her way back to the bathroom, leaving her mother to wait patiently for her to return. All they needed to do was finish the tests, presumably.

Mercy didn't know that the nurses and doctors heard the quieted shriek that she did, but she knew something was wrong almost immediately. When her daughter returned, it was with wide eyes and the sticky, metallic stench of blood hadn’t quite gone.

"I'm--I'm bleeding." Porsche was shocked, but also horrified that she hadn't realized what the bloating and dizziness had been. She should have realized, it was her own body.

Her mom must have gotten a doctor. People were on her in a minute. One was taking her blood pressure, which she knew now was about to dip seriously low, if it hadn't already.

"Did we get a pregnancy test?"

"No, we didn't have a sample!"

"Call for a probe in radiology. We need her in there now."

Her heart sank, that wasn't a good sign. It especially wasn't a good sign because she knew what they suspected—even if it wasn’t her personal specialty. Except, to her knowledge it was absolutely impossible. Beyond an ultrasound as a teenager, she hadn't had any real tests to see the likelihood of her having children. She knew about the problems with her—magic problems and physical problems both—that made it unlikely she could carry. She didn't want to push her hope in finding out if she might not be sterile in the way the doctors had suggested she might be.

If this was an ectopic pregnancy like they seemed to think, she didn't want to know. She liked the idea that she couldn't have children better than the desperate hope of trying and the disappointment of failing.

When they confirmed her assumptions of their diagnosis, she wanted to throw up. When they actually confirmed the diagnosis and began all the prep work for surgery, she did throw up.

Werewolves had been public the entirety of her life and Porsche had never been kept quiet. It was difficult to be kept quiet when your parents were who they were. That said, she made them call the only other werewolf she knew with any sort of medical experience for help.

Her mother offered kind words at the least, she could appreciate that. Someone was there with her, but her bigger concern was the people she would face when she got home.

“You probably don’t need surgery,” Samuel Cornick hummed over the phone. “You can probably get away with letting it heal on its own. I don’t know, Porsche. If we’re being honest here, there is so little understanding of women’s health in the grand scheme of things, let alone as it pertains to werewolves.”

That was a problem, too.

“You should call Adam, Mercy. She won’t respond to anesthetic and it’s for the best of everyone that she not be awake if someone is cutting into her. If I were closer, it’s a really rough situation.”

Because her father wouldn’t fair well around her blood and because that was probably the only way to keep her out.

Keyhole surgery would be nothing with her ability to heal. She would consider the fact they might keep her overnight, though.

If they did, then she'd have to face the fire sooner.

"We genuinely think the problem can be solved with just a small incision. The scans indicate nothing so out of the ordinary that we would need to perform open surgery."

She was praying to everyone possible that this would stay the case. Her father would absolutely lose it if it went to open surgery.

If she were barely holding it together with her mother, she felt the tears come when her father saw her from across the room. He’d made impressive time, only fifteen minutes. His reassuring words fell of deaf ears, all she could hear was ringing, and he pressed a fatherly kiss to her forehead.

The presence of Adam Hauptman, per usual, made things a little easier. It irked her to no end that sometimes a man could get things handled faster than a woman, but that was also just who her father was. He got straight to the point, explained the best way to go about it with her being a werewolf (the exact same checklist from Samuel she had already detailed to them) and she was on her way.

***

"Fuck." Porsche closed her eyes again.

The hospital recovery room lights were way worse as a patient. Her head hurt and she hadn’t even been under real anesthesia. She had a hard time imagining what a real patient felt like.

And Ben was there, of course, because he would know by now. Her father didn’t approve of keeping secrets like that.

"You should have told me." His voice was gentle.

"I didn't know what was wrong. I just figured it was a kidney stone or something stupid."

Did werewolves get kidney stones? That felt like something they couldn’t get. Most things didn’t affect werewolves, but she was also only half and it made things a little weird sometimes.

Like this time.

She didn't even open her eyes to look at him when she heard him get up and step closer.

"You had some idea." His hand brushed hers. She tensed a little bit. "Did you know you were pregnant?"

"I didn't know I could be." Porsche snorted. “So, no. I didn't."

She felt his hand on her head and finally relaxed as he played with a few pieces of her hair. He wanted to say they should be more careful now they knew she could conceive, but he knew it would sound wrong. She would think it was just him not wanting children.

He didn’t, she knew that, but he was honestly more concerned for her.

"What time is it?"

"Four," He smiled when she finally opened her eyes again. "Visiting hours are over at seven."

"You would get to stay, right?" She looked up at him nervously and he nodded.

"Your dad wanted to see you once you woke up. Doesn't believe me or your mom that you're going to be ok."

"I should have guessed." She sighed, leaning into his hand. "How much longer until they release me?"

"They said don't mind you leaving today. They wanted to ask how you were." He searched her eyes for a minute and she offered a small smile. "You hurt anywhere?"

"I think my side is already healed," she admitted, moving around a little. "I want to go home."

"I know what you want," he snorted. "It's stupid of them to keep a werewolf here anyways.”

"They didn't. I woke up." She snorted. A nurse had made her way in to fuss with everything. Porsche let her know she was awake and ready to go home.

"You want me to ask them to let your parents in?"

"I'm going to see them in two hours when I finish the paperwork anyways." Porsche rolled her eyes. "Can you go tell them to meet us at home? You can give them my key."

Ben nodded, slipping out of the door for a moment to let her parents know what was going to happen. He made it back just as the doctor was making it back into the room.

“You must be Mr.—“

“Shaw,” Ben finished, ignoring the offer of a handshake. Samuel was a sort-of exception, Porsche was a full exception—he didn’t appreciate doctors.

“I feel ok to leave,” Porsche informed him. “I think the worst of it healed already.”

The doctor pretended to look unphased, though both Ben and Porsche knew he was a little nervous. Ben flashed her a dangerous smile and she cast a warning look back.

“You shouldn’t flex like that,” Ben tried desperately not to laugh when the other man hurried out of the room. She’d let her eyes shift, more for show than anything. Despite the happenings of the day, she had remained on her best behaviour. “It scares people.”

“People shouldn’t ask stupid questions.” She huffed.

It took another miserable thirty minutes for her discharge papers and another twenty on top of it to receive care instructions that she both already knew and already didn’t need. Ben kept a close eye on her, but she had stopped speaking again. More concerning, because he didn’t like it when she lived in her head.

“This is the only time we’ll have before we sit down with your parents.” He said as he started the car. She nodded. “Do you want me to call them and ask them to leave?”

“Let them stay.”

Silence fell over them as she leaned against the window and tried to rest her eyes again.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Ben tried again.

Porsche snorted and he frowned.

“Seriously. You could have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“It didn’t start until after you left.” She said. “I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t want you to have to turn around. I thought I was overreacting.”

“You had internal bleeding!” He let himself laugh, because it was like her to brush it off.

“I didn’t realize it!” She opened an eye. “It’s hard to diagnose yourself sometimes.”

Ben agreed, glancing down when she actually reached to touch his outstretched hand. She wasn’t taking this well, not that there was a particularly great way to take this.

“You’re a doctor,” He told her, “You know these things happen and sometimes there isn’t a reason.”

“It wasn’t viable.” She sighed, a little frustrated now.

“You can have children—“ He knew the comment would brush some nerves, he shouldn’t have spoken. It was the number one thing to not say to someone and he wasn’t sure why he opened his big mouth.

“I don’t want to talk about it yet. I need to let that sink in.” She let out a breath and he caught a glimpse of a tear before she stole her hand back and wiped at it.

Ben knew she didn’t want to get her hopes up, and that was fine. He wasn’t so sure that he was ok with it. She wasn’t going to let him talk her into trying, for her own sake, and he wasn’t going to try. This was one of her biggest fears and it had just come true.

She could conceive, but she’d just miscarried.

What was worse, Ben was positive if they tried, that this wouldn’t be the last.

Porsche at least came back to him, tucking herself under his arm as they made their way to their door.

Her parents, surprisingly, weren’t there. Porsche spun around to look at the street and realized their car wasn’t there either, though they certainly had been inside at some point. She let Ben guide her to the kitchen where a note had been left on the table. He left her to read it while he checked the fridge. The scent of food made her mouth water, she had forgotten that she hadn’t eaten.

“She made brownies.” Porsche put the note back down. “And they brought dinner.”

“They left extra,” Ben lifted a wrapped steak. “Do you want to change or are you ok?”

“I want to go to sleep.” She yawned, turning to head towards the hallway so that she could climb the stairs. He frowned and followed her.

“You need to eat,” He called, “That’s why you’re tired.”

She made a noise and he caught her shoulder before she got up the first step.

“Change into something comfortable, Porsche, I’ll have food when you want it.”

Ben shouldn’t have been startled when she turned and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face in his neck and breathed. He brought her hands up gently to her sides, careful not to hurt her, but she didn’t even wince when he brushed where the incision had been earlier.

“Whatever happens, happens,” He told her and she nodded, but he could feel her tears against his skin. “As long as you’re safe.”

Neither of them had in a million years expected to be where they were in that moment.

#mercy thompson series #mercy thompson fanfiction #porsche x ben

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 2 months ago

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Hey! Can you write a story with Bran's wolf and Mercy? I am pretty sure if the beast was able to wrestle control from Bran, Mercy would be able to calm it. I would be happy to read something like that.

The ground was only just coming to the season where it was beginning to freeze. It smelled like frozen mud already and it sure hurt like it when I landed on my side.

The last thing I’d ever expect to happen while visiting Aspen Creek was being attacked by a witch. Really, being attacked by anything near Aspen Creek wasn’t on my radar. Most of the things that went bump in the night actively avoided the Marrok. That said, there were very few beings with a death wish quite like witches. Something about being power-hungry (and the Marrok held plenty of power) tended to result in bloodshed, the same could easily be said for werewolves.

When we had made the drive, we had been warned a wilding was missing. This wasn’t particularly uncommon, the wildings did sometimes disappear to die, not entirely unlike a house-cat. Some of them went out in a blaze of glory, and those ones were concerning. But even those “missing” were never actually missing. That Bran had no idea where this one had gone was out of character.

Of course, he’d also had other things on his mind. That was actually the reason we visited. Having been re-inducted into Marrok territory instead of floating as a little island on our own—an unfortunate result of some particularly polarizing political statements I had made—meant that Adam and I were asked to come to Montana.

I stood and shook myself off, the ground was going to leave a worse bruise than what the wilding had done before Adam jumped in.

The witch was out of my sight lines again. It made my ear twitch in frustration. I didn’t like not knowing where she was or what she was working. Adam was two-on-one because she’d already snagged Sherwood in her spell and that was a problem.

First problem was that he was two-on-one. The second, and maybe more pressing, was that Sherwood was not a far cry from Adam. They were, after all, connected. And both were connected to me.

Magic didn’t always work quite properly on me so I wasn’t sure whether to expect that to be a problem or not. It was possible I might be able to shield Adam at the very least.

I was too late to experiment with shielding pack, Sherwood was already gone.

My heart screamed at me to re-engage and help, but common sense overruled this time. I needed to find the witch. There were very few who could control wolves in some capacity similar to this. Personally, I knew of two and both were dead.

I kept my nose to the ground, beginning where I had seen her moment before I’d gone flying, and began tracking. I wasn’t a bloodhound, but black magic was gross enough to smell strongly everywhere it went. Hers had a twinge of familiarity to it, almost akin to a scent I associated with a farrier—the smell of burning hooves.

I picked up the pace because Adam was going to begin losing steam. The trail felt very similar to those Charles used to lay for me. She was far enough ahead of me from my time on the ground to have back-tracked, or maybe she had preset a trail moments before our encounter began.

Maybe we were the target.

No, that wouldn’t make sense. We were an easier target further away from here, further from town even. This was targeted, but her bullseye was Aspen Creek.

When I heard the sound of the truck, I nearly picked up a flat-out run. There was no way to get to her in a truck.

But then I halted.

The sound was almost certainly in the wrong direction. She hadn’t back-tracked that far without me knowing. Plus, the sound of the truck was familiar. It wasn’t the witch’s.

And she wouldn’t leave the vicinity of her captured wolves. I didn’t know what spell she’d caught them in, and some could probably overcome distance, but if her goal was the Marrok then she wouldn’t leave.

She definitely wouldn’t now.

I needed to find her before she found the Marrok. Or, otherwise, I needed to find him before she did.

Both Sherwood and Bran had witch blood and one would think that would give them some sort of resistance to capture by magic, similar to mine.

It didn’t.

It must have been a genetic predisposition to critical failure against witches. Bran, to my knowledge, had been under a witch’s control twice. Sherwood had been physically captured by witches at least once, it’s how he lost his leg, but I wasn’t overly familiar with how much his and Bran’d past overlapped.

The witch had doubled back again. Ground being frozen meant I didn’t have footprints to clue me in until the trail fizzled out. I growled in frustration and turned around. If I couldn’t find her, I could at least stop Bran.

Bran who had gotten my warning and come himself like he had forgotten everything witches were capable of instead of sending Charles.

Charles, the new father. I hadn’t realized he and Anna had adopted, we’d been cut off from Marrok territory for so long. The baby was almost a year old now and we’d just met her.

Maybe it was better Charles stay home and protect her, given what she was.

I was faster on four legs, shooting back into the fight despite my aching side. I stumbled when I shifted, barely taking a pause because she was there and he almost was as well.

It’s possible I should have stayed quiet instead of shouting at him to turn around. The witch hadn’t ensnared Adam yet—though I felt her magic poking at him through our connection to Sherwood and maybe she was depending on that—and it was possible she wouldn’t recognize Bran, not as a wolf. I knew the moment he’d left the truck. I’d heard him change.

All the more dangerous.

And too late. I barely got a word out before I watched him melt away.

Jesse had made a joke once about a girl she knew in college. Every time they went out, this girl posted photos on social media. Jesse called them “soft smile, dead eyes” photos.

Bran was dead eyes, no smile.

Not Bran. I reminded myself. I had never met the berserker and I was pretty sure I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t ever.

“No!” Because he’d lunged into the already snarling pack of furry bodies.

The wilding was dead but the two Cornicks were well alive and Bran hadn’t taken damage yet.

Witch or Adam.

Choice should have been witch again, like the time just before. Witch broke the spell. Witch saved everyone, including the entire continental United States potentially.

But I’d already reacted because I couldn’t waste time chasing her down.

I was on all four again a second later, sprinting into the first opening I could find against everything Adam was telling me in my head—mostly to get away and tell Charles.

Charles who should’ve been told to begin with. I never should have told Bran. I didn’t expect him to be so self-sacrificing this time, not with a witch involved, not given what I knew of his history.

What is the actual point of Leah if this can happen?

Teeth sunk into my neck and there was a fraction of a moment where I considered the fact I’d narrowly avoided paralysis yet again.

Of course, bleeding out was an option.

I was dropped nearly as immediately as the canine jaw broke skin, just as I could feel blood. Something hit Bran’s wolf like a freight train, knocking him over.

Adam.

I’d recognized the silver form anywhere.

In the second I could spare to watch them, I realized I’d met the Marrok’s eyes.

Bran’s eyes.

Not the dead ones.

Adrenaline could only get me so far, I was going to start fading fast because blood rained a little as I shook myself off again. I didn’t heal the way the others did.

Sherwood was back in the fray, seeming to have been momentarily wounded enough to hesitate. It was two-on-one again but this time in our favour.

I spotted the witch again, slightly removed and watching. There should have been a universe where it was safe to take her alive. I so desperately wanted to know what the final goal was here, it clearly wasn’t Bran because she had him and now she didn’t seem to understand that she had him no longer.

There was an extra aggressive snarl.

Adam had Sherwood pinned and Bran was missing. I had only looked away for a second.

Eyes back on the witch, I raced towards her. Blood was pounding in my ears and I didn’t hear whatever sort of curse she hurled my way, but I did manage to escape its clutch. It felt necrotic-almost, withering. I shivered, but kept running and her eyes widened when she realized whatever it was hadn’t worked.

And then Bran was on her from behind, eerily silent until she was thoroughly decapitated and more than a little dismembered.

It wasn’t until he sat back and licked his lips that I realized Adam and Sherwood had completely fallen silent.

Bran’s eyes, which I quickly glanced away from, were unamused.

I was in trouble.

***

Days later, Aspen Creek

“Tell me again the part where you swore you could break the curse if you were ordered to kill me and it didn’t work,” Charles sounded faintly amused about the situation. “But you touch a drop of Mercy’s blood and that’s it. You’re just fine again.”

#had to add in the last bit #I feel like I would be moderately offended if I were Charles #“she’s not even my sister #mercy thompson series #fanfiction #patricia briggs #fanfic #mercy thompson fanfiction

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