Ya ta ta ta.......!!!!
Title: Keep me up all Night
Author: Phoenix Angel Suyari
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mercy/Stefan, Mercy/Adam, Mercy/Sam
Summary: If I should fall for you...
Disclaimer: I do not own Mercy Thompson or any of the characters in the series. They are the property of Patricia Briggs. And if no one else is gonna play with them, then, dammit, I will!
A/N: SPOILERS for Moon Called and Blood Bound. As well as many inside jokes. If you've read the books (as many times as I have) you'll get them. If not, read them, and then it'll be funny. ;p
Sometimes Stefan forgot to breathe. And when he did, he got aggravated. It wasn't that he needed to breathe - he was undead after all. But he'd spent a long time among the humans now, and breathing tended to make them more comfortable. Even those who knew he wasn't human. He'd grown so accustomed to the ritual of it, it was nearly second nature by now. He did not have to concentrate very hard to do it. And the rhythmic rise and fall was oddly soothing in it's own way.
So when he stopped, it bothered him. Not in the way it bothered humans - obviously. Neither was it the fact that he'd slipped in his disguise. No, Stefan was pretty sure it brought his brows together in frustration because...he liked it.
He liked being accepted as one of them. Even though it had been so long since he was one, he could hardly remember it anymore. Everything about his body he now controlled. His heart beat, he breathed, and his skin brandished a distinct rosy tint that looked so real, even he was fooled sometimes.
The truth was not so kind.
The fact was, he didn't need any of those things. Not even to feed. He had his menagerie, and they had all seen him at his worst. He didn't know if they appeased him or not with their acceptance of his appearance, or whether they truly forgot he was really a monster. Oddly, he'd been told he was less of a monster than true humans they had known. More of a man than some of them had ever met. Usually they imparted this upon him just before he released them back into society. Giving them a new life as better, more rounded individuals.
When you'd lived as a Vampire's cattle for so long, there was very little left about the world to fear.
Sometimes they came back to him, terrified and re-traumatized by the real world. Finding themselves no longer a match for the petty, dishonorable ways of modern society. He'd always try to talk them out of it, but in the end, they'd insist, and he'd welcome them back with open arms.
Much of the seethe thought he was foolish - far too attached to his food. But, Stefan had learned that the best teachers he'd ever known were the people who had seen it all. And the brightest smiles he'd ever seen came from these same people.
It was the ones so easily lost that held the most potential. It was these young spirits - twisted and broken and abandoned - that he most enjoyed collecting. Little bodies he'd feed and clothe and care for until they were old enough to feed from. He educated his menagerie, he comforted them. He was the most unconventional vampire in the entire seethe. And he was most proud of that fact.
Now, it is often said that vampires are completely evil, and that the sweeter they seem, they more dangerous they are. Stefan supposed this used to be true, and to the humans whom lived such short spans, it still might be. But as far as he was concerned, he was capable of love. He didn't know how. Or even when it had grown within him, changing him fundamentally.
Perhaps it was always so, but he had never realized. It had taken him several centuries to meet Mercy, after all.
Mercy was - by all rights - his natural enemy. As a walker, she was fated to hunt him and his. And he, to her. Yet, when he'd first discovered what she was, he'd found he could only nod and bid her good night. Initially, he'd been terribly confused. It was not as if he were adverse to killing. As Marsilia's Vassal he was one of the first to avidly hunt the walkers upon their arrival in exile. He was, in fact, expertly blessed at slaughtering them. So, how was it, instead of the desire to kill the last of the walkers and rid the seethe of their kind forever, all he could ponder were ways to protect the little coyote from being discovered?
It may have been the fact that Mercy was an innocent. She may have been a walker, but all that she knew of it was that she could shape change at will, and that it had caused female werewolves to loathe and attempt to murder her since infancy.
She knew nothing of her blessings. That she could protect herself from thrall. That she would not be summoned by the call. That she was capable of fighting off the kiss. Mercy could not know that she was capable of finding them whenever she chose. That her innate magic could conceal her from even their sensitive senses. That she could fight back, nor that it would make even the eldest and most experienced of them crumble before her in defeat, begging to be spared.
She still didn't know. He'd taught her some things about his kind. She knew how to kill them. Had killed two. Two of his own kin.
Stefan knew that should Marsilia force her to, Mercy would slaughter every last one of them. The werewolves would help - Bran was extremely fond of his little coyote - but it would be Mercy's hand that would sever their heads. Yet, even as he knew this, Stefan had no fear. He trusted that Mercy would spare him. If out of limited fondness, or some sort of affection.
Though he could not be sure of this, Stefan's belief did not waver.
For - though he had never heard of it before amongst his kin - he had fallen hopelessly in love.
Knowing he was in love, admitting it to himself had been the easy part. Communicating it to Mercy was proving far more difficult.
She had a hard enough time as it was, being fought over by two of the most dominant werewolves in all of North America. Between Sam and his 'prior claim', and Adam with his 'pack claim', Mercy had to endure a ping pong like existence. Where two wolves considered her mate, while she considered herself the property of neither.
Adam, as the local Alpha, had at the very least thirty sets of eyes to keep track of his beloved. Though she didn't care for it, Mercy had grown accustomed to being guarded. Things had only gotten worse after the ordeal with Littleton, and Adam's 'coming out'. The incident had been long over, but the werewolves refused to consider Mercy was capable of providing her own safety. Even those whom did not care for her had no choice. Adam was law, and they obeyed to the letter.
Samuel, Mercy lived with. There was no escaping his dominance when it came. She was subject to his mood swings, and a participant in his rants. Samuel told Mercy everything, and because she'd once loved him enough to marry, she listened. She comforted. She cared.
Watching the play between the wolves, and how they made Mercy long for them, sickened Stefan. But, alas, there was nothing he could do. Mercy was a day creature, even if as a coyote, she was just as capable at night. Living in the human world had it's price. And the werewolves could pay it, where Stefan could not.
Sure, he was powerful enough to walk about in day light close to sun rise or set. But, he could never be what Mercy needed. And she could never be as He was.
As a walker, Mercy was incapable of being changed. While it hurt that he could not take her in the end, there was satisfaction in the fact that the werewolves couldn't either. There would come a time when Mercy - even with her walker's life - would see the end.
She would leave them. Two werewolves and a vampire in love far too deep.
Maybe then, when her soul was reborn and the werewolves had pined themselves into oblivion could he have her. But even to his vampire mind, it seemed wrong. And Stefan knew, that just like breathing, having Mercy be anyone but Mercy would feel wrong.
He'd probably have to fight them for her in the end. Which was just fine with him. After all, one didn't play dominance games with werewolves. One simply ate them.
Author: Phoenix Angel Suyari
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Mercy/Stefan, Mercy/Adam, Mercy/Sam
Summary: If I should fall for you...
Disclaimer: I do not own Mercy Thompson or any of the characters in the series. They are the property of Patricia Briggs. And if no one else is gonna play with them, then, dammit, I will!
A/N: SPOILERS for Moon Called and Blood Bound. As well as many inside jokes. If you've read the books (as many times as I have) you'll get them. If not, read them, and then it'll be funny. ;p
Sometimes Stefan forgot to breathe. And when he did, he got aggravated. It wasn't that he needed to breathe - he was undead after all. But he'd spent a long time among the humans now, and breathing tended to make them more comfortable. Even those who knew he wasn't human. He'd grown so accustomed to the ritual of it, it was nearly second nature by now. He did not have to concentrate very hard to do it. And the rhythmic rise and fall was oddly soothing in it's own way.
So when he stopped, it bothered him. Not in the way it bothered humans - obviously. Neither was it the fact that he'd slipped in his disguise. No, Stefan was pretty sure it brought his brows together in frustration because...he liked it.
He liked being accepted as one of them. Even though it had been so long since he was one, he could hardly remember it anymore. Everything about his body he now controlled. His heart beat, he breathed, and his skin brandished a distinct rosy tint that looked so real, even he was fooled sometimes.
The truth was not so kind.
The fact was, he didn't need any of those things. Not even to feed. He had his menagerie, and they had all seen him at his worst. He didn't know if they appeased him or not with their acceptance of his appearance, or whether they truly forgot he was really a monster. Oddly, he'd been told he was less of a monster than true humans they had known. More of a man than some of them had ever met. Usually they imparted this upon him just before he released them back into society. Giving them a new life as better, more rounded individuals.
When you'd lived as a Vampire's cattle for so long, there was very little left about the world to fear.
Sometimes they came back to him, terrified and re-traumatized by the real world. Finding themselves no longer a match for the petty, dishonorable ways of modern society. He'd always try to talk them out of it, but in the end, they'd insist, and he'd welcome them back with open arms.
Much of the seethe thought he was foolish - far too attached to his food. But, Stefan had learned that the best teachers he'd ever known were the people who had seen it all. And the brightest smiles he'd ever seen came from these same people.
It was the ones so easily lost that held the most potential. It was these young spirits - twisted and broken and abandoned - that he most enjoyed collecting. Little bodies he'd feed and clothe and care for until they were old enough to feed from. He educated his menagerie, he comforted them. He was the most unconventional vampire in the entire seethe. And he was most proud of that fact.
Now, it is often said that vampires are completely evil, and that the sweeter they seem, they more dangerous they are. Stefan supposed this used to be true, and to the humans whom lived such short spans, it still might be. But as far as he was concerned, he was capable of love. He didn't know how. Or even when it had grown within him, changing him fundamentally.
Perhaps it was always so, but he had never realized. It had taken him several centuries to meet Mercy, after all.
Mercy was - by all rights - his natural enemy. As a walker, she was fated to hunt him and his. And he, to her. Yet, when he'd first discovered what she was, he'd found he could only nod and bid her good night. Initially, he'd been terribly confused. It was not as if he were adverse to killing. As Marsilia's Vassal he was one of the first to avidly hunt the walkers upon their arrival in exile. He was, in fact, expertly blessed at slaughtering them. So, how was it, instead of the desire to kill the last of the walkers and rid the seethe of their kind forever, all he could ponder were ways to protect the little coyote from being discovered?
It may have been the fact that Mercy was an innocent. She may have been a walker, but all that she knew of it was that she could shape change at will, and that it had caused female werewolves to loathe and attempt to murder her since infancy.
She knew nothing of her blessings. That she could protect herself from thrall. That she would not be summoned by the call. That she was capable of fighting off the kiss. Mercy could not know that she was capable of finding them whenever she chose. That her innate magic could conceal her from even their sensitive senses. That she could fight back, nor that it would make even the eldest and most experienced of them crumble before her in defeat, begging to be spared.
She still didn't know. He'd taught her some things about his kind. She knew how to kill them. Had killed two. Two of his own kin.
Stefan knew that should Marsilia force her to, Mercy would slaughter every last one of them. The werewolves would help - Bran was extremely fond of his little coyote - but it would be Mercy's hand that would sever their heads. Yet, even as he knew this, Stefan had no fear. He trusted that Mercy would spare him. If out of limited fondness, or some sort of affection.
Though he could not be sure of this, Stefan's belief did not waver.
For - though he had never heard of it before amongst his kin - he had fallen hopelessly in love.
Knowing he was in love, admitting it to himself had been the easy part. Communicating it to Mercy was proving far more difficult.
She had a hard enough time as it was, being fought over by two of the most dominant werewolves in all of North America. Between Sam and his 'prior claim', and Adam with his 'pack claim', Mercy had to endure a ping pong like existence. Where two wolves considered her mate, while she considered herself the property of neither.
Adam, as the local Alpha, had at the very least thirty sets of eyes to keep track of his beloved. Though she didn't care for it, Mercy had grown accustomed to being guarded. Things had only gotten worse after the ordeal with Littleton, and Adam's 'coming out'. The incident had been long over, but the werewolves refused to consider Mercy was capable of providing her own safety. Even those whom did not care for her had no choice. Adam was law, and they obeyed to the letter.
Samuel, Mercy lived with. There was no escaping his dominance when it came. She was subject to his mood swings, and a participant in his rants. Samuel told Mercy everything, and because she'd once loved him enough to marry, she listened. She comforted. She cared.
Watching the play between the wolves, and how they made Mercy long for them, sickened Stefan. But, alas, there was nothing he could do. Mercy was a day creature, even if as a coyote, she was just as capable at night. Living in the human world had it's price. And the werewolves could pay it, where Stefan could not.
Sure, he was powerful enough to walk about in day light close to sun rise or set. But, he could never be what Mercy needed. And she could never be as He was.
As a walker, Mercy was incapable of being changed. While it hurt that he could not take her in the end, there was satisfaction in the fact that the werewolves couldn't either. There would come a time when Mercy - even with her walker's life - would see the end.
She would leave them. Two werewolves and a vampire in love far too deep.
Maybe then, when her soul was reborn and the werewolves had pined themselves into oblivion could he have her. But even to his vampire mind, it seemed wrong. And Stefan knew, that just like breathing, having Mercy be anyone but Mercy would feel wrong.
He'd probably have to fight them for her in the end. Which was just fine with him. After all, one didn't play dominance games with werewolves. One simply ate them.