#Ras & Danny: Threatening each other

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 266

Back on my Danny & Ras frienemies/rivals/maybe-lovers-nobody-can-tell-their-signals-are-very-mixed train. 

See, Danny has gone through time a lot. Often. It comes with being Clockwork’s charge-son-thing and honestly he finds it fun. And several times he’s used this time travelling to get some training in. Enter Ras, stage left, also a teen at the time and also learning swordsmanship from the same person. 

And they… utterly despise each other. They would kill the other for an apple slice, if the other one would die! But also, only they can kill the other, as it is obviously their right! 

And well, they keep running into each other. It has been a hundred years, surely the other would die by now? But of course their rival would live through utter spite. Probably to spite them specifically. 

The amount of times they have ended up sparring- trying to kill each other or not- the moment they see the other is actually ridiculous. But time is also passing. And… Danny understands, not having another to talk about things people are forgetting, or have already forgotten. 

How they ended up actually talking without a murder attempt was a long story that included a demon, a dragon, a pair of fae, some bandits, and a lot of alcohol, but it happened. And then it happens again. And again, and now it’s just kind of normal to share a drink after their spars, talking about things that no longer exist, and things they miss. 

Sure Danny can go back in time again, but he knows better than to do it willy nilly. He’s matured, he’s been an adult for a hundred years now, he knows there’s consequences for messing with time, even with Clockwork’s blessings. 

The first time they got married was technically for an undercover assassination. Well, Ras was there to assassinate someone, Danny was there to grab an artifact that should Not be in the realm of the living. And they got divorced after, it was fine. 

They just, also got married again when they met a few years later, for another job. And… okay, so maybe they have gotten married over a dozen times now and only divorced like half of those times. Half of those were for the bit or while drunk! 

And even if technically they’re married or shared a bed, it’s not like they're exclusive! As Ras’ daughters’ existences attest to (adopted in one case or not). They don’t exactly have a label for their relationship, despite others asking for one or trying to put a name to it themselves. 

Now Danny knows Ras isn’t exactly a good dude, or at least on the side of ‘good’ as he’s a literal assassin. But he also knows that good? Bad? Rather relative. He had gotten labeled as a villain when he was just trying to help all that time ago after all, and really who was he to tell someone else how to live their life? 

Which brings him to now, where he’s run into his old frienemy-rival and his youngest daughter. Who has a braindead teenager and a small toddler. Which is fine, really- but also, Talia dear, why are you using a brain dead teenager to guard your three year old son? 

…

Okay, Talia dear, Ras (Derogatory), why are you using your brain dead son and grandson to guard your younger son and grandson? Do you not have the Pits, which you were soo proud about Ras? Yes, he will spar with you, but for Realms’ sake, heal, what’s his name? Ah yes, go heal Jason and he’ll actually stick around for a few years, deal? Good. 

#DCxDP #DPxDC #Prompts #Deadly Decisions #Danny is Not Ghost King & he doesn’t want to be #Danny isn’t from the same timeline as DC but he hops around so many that he’s formed a few favorites #You Know the bats are going to go crazy searching for some sort of proof of Danny’s existence when they finally communicate w/ each other #Why yes Danny is an adult lol (he is also tall but has body more like his mom) #Yes Sam showed him how to do makeup & it was a bonding thing while they bitched #Is Danny Dusan’s mom? Wonderful question that the league is pondering themself #Danny introduced Sam & Tucker to Ras once & it was horrific how well they got along #Danny almost forgot that Tucker was once a royal dictator who had constant assassination attempts #Sam & Ras bond over violent love of nature & willingness to kill to keep it safe from assholes #Damian about Danny: Obviously this is Grandmother #Jason after being thrown in the Pit: Who are you Where am I What the fuck #Damian: :O Akhi you can speak now :D Come see my puppy Grandmother gave me for protection #Ras & Danny: Threatening each other #Everyone else: Do they want to kill each other or are they flirting or both… #Space Core Danny #Star Core Jason

[the-person-on-the-bridge]

DPXDC Prompt №4

Caring Ra's makes me so soft, you'll have to put up with it.

Ra's really cared about Jason, maybe in his own way, sometimes like a jerk, but he cared. In some ways, Jason considered him closer than Bruce. Jason disagreed with Ra's in many ways, but considered him his second foster father, although he would never admit it. Ra's considered Jason his son, although the guy diligently denied it.

When Jason and Danny make up the wedding guest list, Jason, without hesitation, enters Ra's there. Sending the invitation, Jason wonders if his father will agree to come to the celebration. A week later, he receives a reply letter saying that Ra's will

Jason is very happy, but does not understand what kind of chaos this will entail.

***

Everything was going great before the celebration. The costumes were ironed, the dishes were cooked, the guests did not try to kill each other. Perfect.

Then Ra's comes into the hall. And then chaos begins.

Batkids:*shouting and threatening* Bruce: You can't be here Batkids: *falls silent* Ra's: Why is that? This is MY son's wedding, his husband appeared from MY Lazarus Pit, I have every right to attend Danny against the background of deafening silence: Jason, calm down your fathers Bruce and Ra's: DANIEL

***

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #jason todd x danny fenton #Ra's al Ghul takes care of his family #Danny tries to defuse the situation but gets hit #batfamily #Batfamily has one brain cell #Ra's al Ghul wants to be happy for his son world domination can wait one day #Against the background Roy barely restrains himself #HE'S SO FUNNY HE'S GOING TO CRY NOW #bruce wayne is a good parent #Ra's al Ghul is a good parent #why is it not a tag #I had so much fun making it up that I made a meme

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 3

In which: Danny getting yeeted into the Lazarus Pit yields anticlimactic consequences and Bruce Wayne converses with a fruit loop.

AO3 | Prologue | 2 | [ 3 ] | 4 |

DANIEL BARELY HAD TIME TO SCREAM before he’s plunged into the green depths of the Lazarus pit, primeval waves crashing against the walls of the pool. Talia flicked her wrist, signaling the ten League members hidden in the shadows to approach. Each one spaced equally apart around the pit with smoke pellets synthesized from blood blossoms held in their hands, ready to drop at a moment’s notice.

Pit madness rendered the majority of the living uncontrollable, with even the weakest of humans imbued with a strength that could only be induced by the purest of rage. The League was not taking chances as to how a being like her son would react to it.

The waters stilled.

Then—

A bright flash of light. Then, faster than the eyes could follow, a figure erupted from the waters. Bone white hair that twisted and curled as if it were still underwater. Skin lightly tinged frostbitten blue and clad in a suit of black and white and shrouded in an aura of blinding light. Phantom appeared from the depths, floating above the pit like a god reborn.

His eyes burned a toxic green.

“What the fuck was that?”

But not pit madness green.

Talia ordered her assassins to at ease with a raise of her hand. She slowly walked to her father’s side just as her son—Phantom—landed at the edge of the pool. Idly, Talia noticed how different Phantom seemed in comparison to her son. Physical attributes aside, Daniel tended to make himself smaller. What venom that may coat his words and the vitriol in his glares dampened by the way he held himself. Shoulders hunched and head tilted down. Non-threatening. Hands always needing to do something, whether it be holding his arms or shoved inside his pockets or constantly brushing it through his hair. No matter how she and his instructors taught him how to hold himself like a warrior, like a soldier, he still tended to present himself as a skittering little animal.

Phantom was different. He squared his soldiers and lifted his chin high, unafraid to stretch out to his fullest height and use his defiance of gravity to make himself look bigger. Stronger. His arms held steady at his sides, curled into tight fists. Green eyes—green as the Lazarus pit yet without that spark of madness that so consumed everyone else—burning with righteous fury.

“You fucking threw me into the weird green pool. What even—who does that?”

Ra’s tilted his head. “Fascinating. It seems you have a resistance to the pit madness.”

Phantom blinked, caught off guard. “Pit…madness,” he echoed. A statement, though from the wrinkle in his brows and the look he shoots Talia, it was more a question than anything else.

“It is one of the side effects of the Lazarus pits.” Talia approached her son with caution, holding his face with both hands and inspecting for any differences. “While the waters rejuvenate, restore, and even temporarily imbue one with supernatural strength, it also tends to inflict users with temporary insanity.”

“Insanity?” His eyes widened, trembling hands coming up to hold her wrists. Strangely, Daniel did not pull away from her touch. “I could have gone insane?”

Those bright eyes of his looked so frightened. Haunted. Pupils dilated to mere pinpricks of blackness, lost in a sea of Lazarus green. “Oh habeebi, only temporarily.”

“Like that’s better!” He yelled. “Even temporarily, I’m—” He staggered back, breaking out of her hold. Harmless Danny Fenton bleeding into proud Phantom as he ran his hands through his hair, unwilling to look at anyone.

Ra’s continued to watch, his arms crossed beneath his sternum, muttering to himself. Her father had prided himself on being one of the most knowledgeable about the Lazarus pits and its effects. Now, faced with a new mystery, the scholar within the Demon’s Head emerged as he observed his grandson.

“No,” Ra’s said, mostly to himself. “Perhaps less of a ‘resistance’ and more of an ‘immunity’ to it, given how both Daniel and the Lazarus pit have similar compositions. It would be a fascinating tangent to follow.” He chuckled to himself. “How droll. The life-restoring Lazarus pit holding a connection to the land of the dead.”

Talia turned to her father. “So, Daniel will not feel any of the pit’s side effects, then?”

Daniel perked up at the sound of his name, halting in his pacing. “I…might not go insane?”

“Perhaps, though it is too soon to tell. You have the waters of the Lazarus pit flowing through your veins, Daniel.” Ra’s smiled; eyes gleaming with the sparks of pride. “You and it are made of the same chemicals, the same reality-defying compounds that can bring the dead back to life.”

“Well, great. I have the same chemical makeup as a glowing hot tub, what else is new—” Her son staggered, and she caught him. Impossibly bright rings formed at his abdomen and then split, transforming Phantom back into a human. Mortal. His face haggard and sweating from the temples, eyes back to her beloved’s pale blues.

Her father did not bat an eye. “The pit’s healing effects are slowed down, then? Or perhaps it is because he has no wounds to heal?” Ra’s hummed; chin cradled in his hand. “Set him back into the pits, Talia. I believe young Daniel has yet to absorb all his needed energy.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine. Put me back in the crazy water, why not?” Daniel tugged at her shoulders. “Just…gently, please?”

Talia smoothed down his dark hair with a smile. “Of course, habeebi. I will even stay with you as well.”

When he looked at her, it was something almost akin to gratefulness.

------

In Gotham City, the upper echelons of society gather together at the Gotham Expo Center. The shining halls, which had been used as the site of a week-long exhibition of new scientific research, was reoutfitted to serve as the venue for the exhibition’s final event.

A gala. The hunting ground of the nouveau riche and old money families. Corporate moguls and debutants made their rounds across the floor, chatting with heirs and politicians and the who’s who of the upper class.

Scientists and researchers attempted to step out of their shells and dazzle the crowds. Wanting to fish a willing patron with deep pockets to fund their next project. Reporters huddled together like schools of fish, warily approaching the predators in their midst for a question or a photo. Both things many of the wealthy and affluent are easily ready to give, as long as it only showed off their best side in tomorrow’s society papers.

Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, and society’s darling observed everything as he always did, in that most people believed he barely noticed anything beyond what’s right in front of him. He raised the flute glass of champagne to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he listened to the chatter of sycophants around him. A few were even some promising researchers of which he made a mental note to pass along to Lucius.

Two nights ago, Bruce received a tip of unusual movements from the League of Assassins. The organization had been quiet as of late, and while Bruce had been very carefully monitoring their activities in the background, the sudden tightening of their security prompted him to take a closer look.

There had been sightings of the League of Assassins centered around a small town in Illinois—Amity Park. A rural tourist trap championing itself as the most haunted place in America. Something that Bruce would normally scoff at or zealously research about if not for John Constantine’s warning to “never go within a ten-mile radius of that hellhole.” With similar sentiments from others in the occult community, the Justice League decided to take that warning to heart. Bruce’s curiosity may have been piqued, but even he was tactful enough to avoid courting more trouble.

Suffice to say, Bruce—and especially Batman—could not afford to ignore Ra’s al Ghul’s movements. Whatever his plans were involved whatever anomalies were going on in Amity Park. And wasn’t it simply serendipitous that one of the guest lists for tonight’s gala was Vlad Masters, the mayor of Amity Park?

“Vlad Masters, is that you?” Bruce, slapping on his signature Brucie smile, masterfully detached himself from his previous group, quickly heading towards the nearby bar where he spotted Vlad getting another drink.

“Why, Bruce Wayne, it’s been so long!” The two shook hands, of which Bruce was slightly surprised at how cold to the touch Vlad was. A health condition, perhaps. Then again, there was something in Vlad’s appearance and stature that spoke of a deeper reason.

“It’s been, what, two years? What brings you to Gotham?”

“Business; the usual really.” Despite whatever friendly aura they’re projecting, Bruce Wayne and Vlad Masters weren’t friends. More acquaintances that have been forced to mingle a few times because of the nature of their business and the demands of high society. From what Bruce knows, Vlad is a business tycoon that’s as blindingly charismatic as he was infamous for his quick rise to wealth and a few rather shady dealings.

Bruce stuck his hand in his pocket. “Well Vlad, last we all heard was you dipping your toes into politics. You’re a, uh, what, a governor?”

Vlad let out an obviously fake chuckle. “Oh nothing as grand as that. I’m only a small-town mayor, really.”

“Right!” Bruce snapped his fingers. “So, what’s that like?”

“Oh dreadful work, really. So much paperwork, so many things to do or oversee, but rewarding in its own way.” He puffed out his chest. “Many of the people in Amity Park do rely on me, you know. Though I’m afraid my schedule’s busy enough that I barely have time to go home!”

“Well, we’re very happy that you made room enough to visit us here in Gotham.”

Bruce sensed Damian coming to stand beside him and instinctually placed a hand around his shoulder. Though his youngest had been steadily adjusting to his new life here in Gotham, he still preferred to stick to his father’s shadow than mingle with those of his own age groups at galas. (Then again, Bruce was very similar when he was younger so perhaps it was a genetic thing).

He smiled down at Damian—frowning as he’d rather be patrolling the streets in uniform as opposed to schmoozing with people he hardly cared about. “Have you met my son, Vlad? Damian, this is Vlad Masters, a business partner and a, uh—” He scrunched his face, pretending to remember what Vlad’s current occupation is. “Mayor of some small town out west.”

Bruce turned to look at Vlad, expecting to see some variation of ‘insulted but trying to keep up a polite façade’—only to freeze.

Vlad’s face paled considerably. His beady eyes comically wide as he looked at Damian, the fingers curled around the stem of his flute glass bone white. Damian, unnerved, steadied his stance but shifted minutely closer to Bruce.

Well, this was interesting. “You alright, Vlad? You looked like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Vlad jerked his head towards Bruce. Surprise—and fear? —contorted his features for a brief moment before smoothed back down into a proper mask. “Mayor of Amity Park, yes. My apologies,” he chuckled. “Young—Damian, was it? —only reminded me of someone I knew once.” He shifted his gaze back to Damian. “The resemblance is actually quite uncanny.”

Damian furrowed his brows. “Amity Park?”

“You’ve heard of it, Damian?”

“I would be surprised if you did.” Vlad masters took a small ship of his champagne. “Then again, it should be expected that you might have heard of it. The town does love it’s ghosts.”

Bruce laughed. “What, like Casper?”

“Something like that, yes.” There’s a tightness to Vlad’s voice. “Amity Park is its own breed of strange. We’ve handled things well enough on our own in the past, and quite honestly you get used to all of the spooks eventually. Though I must say the shadows are quite new—I’d often ask myself if I should petition your city’s vigilante and put him on the case.

“Shadows?”

Vlad easy smile shifted into a faint grimace. “They have a rather nasty habit of snooping.”

------

Despite Bruce and Damian’s attempt at plying Vlad for more answers, Vlad kept his mouth shut, evading questions and changing topics skillfully. Something that only raised Bruce’s alarm that something was going on.

“So,” Bruce unbuttoned his suit as he stepped into the car, “How did you hear of Amity, Damian? Ghosts and ghouls don’t exactly seem like something you’d be interested in.”

He waited for Damian to buckle his seatbelt before shifting the Bentley into drive and pulling out of the Expo. They had stayed at the gala long enough, making their rounds and giving the media enough for a headline in the society pages.

Damian rested his hand against the window. His face scrunched as he watched the looming facades of Gotham’s architecture pass by. “Mother mentioned the name once or twice,” he said. “I was not…privy to every operation that happened in the League, so I don’t know anything despite that my grandfather took an interest in Amity.”

“And I’m sure that from Masters’ odd phrasing, Ra’s didn’t just magically lose that interest either.” He narrowed his eyes. “Contact Oracle and have her dig up everything we need to know about the situation in Amity Park. I think it’s time Batman made his introductions to some out-of-town guests.”

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #phantom children.txt

[when-they-write-stuff]

Since you posted that prompts list 🙃🙃🙃🙃 85. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” “I’m not jealous.” I neeeeeeed some jelly Derek, luv ya

The first time Stiles went to The Jungle, he’d been a scrawny, pale, sexually-confused teenager. Stiles was pretty sure he’d blundered in and made a complete fool of himself, but that had seemed to be his MO when he was younger. 

When he was younger, Stiles was an idiot. He wouldn’t even attempt to deny that.

But Stiles was a solid nineteen-years-old now and although he never would have seen himself staying in Beacon Hills after high school, he could always follow Scott’s example and claim it to be ‘werewolf stuff.’ Even if he wasn’t a werewolf. Even though he probably could have turned his back on it all whenever he wanted without anyone ever giving him too hard of a time.

But then Stiles could also say Derek had made him stay. Derek Hale and his red eyes. Derek Hale and his grumpy growls that Stiles was totally not head of heels for, thank you very much.

He could even say it was his father, even though Stiles was pretty sure his dad would love to see him a couple thousand miles from this Hellmouth. The point is, Stiles could make up a lot of excuses. But where had he been again?

Oh yeah. His newly understood sexuality and the local Beacon Hills gay club.

Stiles hadn’t planned on going out, he really hadn’t. But then Scott was busy with Allison, Lydia was busy being a genius in another state, and Stiles was pretty sure Derek was kicking his betas asses during their Friday night training. 

Which, uh, no thanks. He didn’t care that Derek offered out the loft to whoever wanted to crash there, Stiles had better things to do than watch shirtless werewolves run around and get beaten up by a man twice their size and much more dangerous to Stiles’s certain… lower regions.

So, when a smirking Jackson had offered an invitation out, did Stiles really have anything better to do? Other than chill in his dorm room that is, wondering when Scott would end up coming back before the night ended. But part of him knew that probably wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. Or, if Stiles was really unlucky, he’d be alone all the way until the weekend ended.

But still, some part of his brain said; it was Jackson. And a couple of years ago, Stiles would have very impolitely said ‘fuck you’, thank you very much.

But this wasn’t a few years ago. And Stiles could agree now that yeah, Jackson wasn’t the complete douchebag that he used to be. And when he was actually tolerating Stiles’s presence, they sometimes got along. 

Sometimes. Stiles was hoping tonight would be one of those nights.

Because he was bored, dammit.

The last time he’d been clubbing was— when was the last time he’d been clubbing? It seemed like the pack was sidetracked every other day with the new monster of the week and Stiles never had any time to himself anymore. He sorely regretted telling Derek his dorm number because the Alpha showed up multiple times each week now, scaring the shit out of Stiles’s floor every time.

His RA wouldn’t even talk to him anymore. But could Stiles really blame the guy? Joe had come by the dorm room once and Derek had nearly gone feral Alpha werewolf on the poor guy.

If Stiles thought about it, Derek tended to nearly go feral Alpha werewolf on anyone that dared get too close to him. But yeah, Stiles didn’t really spend too much thinking about it. Mostly because somehow, Derek had managed to keep the exciting parts of Stiles’s life dry both inside and outside of pack life.

It was like he was werewolf married or something. Just without the perks.

Married to the pack, maybe?

“Hey, Stilinski, where the hell is your head at tonight?”

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts and gave Jackson a startled look. The beta was sitting in his desk chair and scowling, all decked out to be hitting the club. Stiles didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but his Chemistry book was still open in his lap and he was pretty sure he didn’t remember letting Jackson into his room.

Stiles stared at him for another long moment. Jackson scowled and waved a hand through the air.

“Uh, Stilinski? Earth to the idiot?

“Shut up,” Stiles grumbled, slapping his book shut. He tossed it off of his bed and Jackson caught it with a curse, but there was a definite smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. Stiles all but fell off his bunk bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, grabbing the closest pile of clothes that he was pretty sure didn’t smell too terrible.

But then Jackson was there, eyes flashing blue as he yanked them away. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Are you serious, dude? Those are like, my cleanest clothes.”

“I know. That’s why I brought an outfit.”

Stiles scowled at the beta and considered denying him just to see how snarly Jackson could get before he gave him. But then, deciding to take the path of least resistance, Stiles took the clothes pushed into his arms and turned back toward the bathroom, stumbling inside. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d showered. But it was exams week with the end of the semester finally coming up and Stiles had been living off of Red Bull and ramen, dammit. He couldn’t be expected to be put together.

He really needed this night out.

By the time he came out all showered and dressed, Jackson gave him a sweeping look and then actually look satisfied. Stiles just flipped him the bird, grabbing his keys and wallet off his desk before heading out of his dorm room without waiting for the beta.

He wasn’t doing this for Jackson. But it might mess with Scott a little if he came back early and maybe Stiles was kind of hoping for that.

Or at least he could get so wasted that he’d forget the fact that he’d probably failed his Anthropology final two days ago. But the exam had been hard, okay? Stiles had studied; he had.

Jackson smacked him upside the head when they reached the jeep and told him to stop thinking so hard. Stiles just glared at the beta again.

The last time he’d been clubbing— the last time he’d been clubbing? Stiles was pretty sure it had been with Danny when he was newly eighteen, a few months before the teenager had hightailed it out of Beacon Hills and all the horrors that the town held.

If Stiles had been smart, he probably would’ve followed.

But Stiles wasn’t smart. Not in certain areas at certain times, at least. Which might have been how he was ducking into the local gay club at twelve o’clock on a Friday night, counting down the minutes until Jackson inevitably ditched him. 

Tonight took a little longer than usual. But by the time Stiles had been hanging around the bar counter for going on ten minutes, Jackson just gave him a disappointed look and ducked away.

Stiles shrugged and turned back to his rum and coke.

He didn’t say alone for long, though.

“Your friend told me to introduce myself,” a new voice said, not long after Stiles had worked his way through his second drink. And Stiles really should have expected this.

The guy dropped onto the stool at Stiles’s side and he raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways to take in the dark brown hair that came with a Jackson-approved chiseled face. Still, Stiles shot a glance across the dance floor to see Jackson give him a blue-eyed look, arms thrown around the neck of some other stranger.

Forcing himself not to sigh, Stiles turned back toward the guy.

He could look at him without envisioning dark stubble or grey-green eyes, which Stiles always considered a win. He’d never admit that out loud, but Derek had totally ruined standards for him. Except, Stiles wasn’t pining. Totally not.

He was not pining.

“My name’s Vic,” the guy said, offering out a hand. And of course, it was. Stiles could have survived this night with just a bit of drinking and maybe some wallowing in the bar nuts. But then again, Jackson might never invite him out again.

“I’m Stiles.”

“Your friend already told me.”

“Oh?” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that all you’ve heard about me so far?”

“He said you like to dance.”

Sometimes, Stiles really hated Jackson. Had he been a stupid seventeen-year-old again, he totally would have thought this was a prank. But he didn’t need to glance over to see Jackson’s threatening looks, slowly letting himself get pulled up.

The bartender’s look was all too knowing. Stiles slapped a ten onto the counter and let himself get tugged out onto the dance floor.

Stiles wasn’t sure if he had the appropriate buzz for this yet. But then he was surrounded by sweaty bodies and the lights overhead were a little more than blinding. If Stiles concentrated hard enough, the music could be dulled to a thrumming in the background and Vic’s eyes almost seemed to reflect a little bit of green in the overhead lights. Stiles was pretty sure that was all in his own head though, because he was pretty sure the guy’s eyes had been dark brown earlier. But he was allowed to imagine a little, wasn’t he?

Then there were fingertips brushing over the back of his neck and Stiles glanced back to see Jackson. Sweat shone on his forehead and a wicked smirk played along his lips. The beta jerked his chin toward Vic and at some point between song one and song two, Stiles had gone from Jackson pressing up against his back to Vic grinding down against his front. 

Now, this was a much easier way of getting his brain to shut up, Stiles had to admit. With fingers tracing over the back of his neck, Vic dragged a hand through his hair and pulled Stiles toward the crook of his neck with his free hand. Stiles could completely forget about his possible failed exam or complete lack of a roommate right now.

Or Derek. Freaking Derek Hale.

Screw Derek Hale.

Like he could read his spinning thoughts, Vic’s hand tightened in his hair and guided Stiles’s lips up his neck and toward his own. And yeah, Stiles was no stranger to kissing. He’d gone a solid four months with Lydia before her college enrollment took her elsewhere. And he’d tried his hand at hook-ups once upon a time. Though, he’d never really made it past imagining what could be something else.

Something more.

But Stiles wasn’t a lovestruck girl, dammit.

Except then there were warm lips against his own, a tongue prodding into his mouth, and Stiles yanked sharply back. Vic gave him a slightly wounded look and Stiles would have mumbled a series of apologies if he remembered how to string words together. Instead, he just raised a hand and stumbled back, before turning around and fleeing the dance floor altogether.

And what had he been saying earlier? This was the night that he needed out. To get wasted, to forget about everything else.

But Stiles was just wanted to go back to his dark, empty dorm right now.

He thumbed out his phone and went scrawling for Jackson’s name, but then there was a sudden hand on the neckline of his t-shirt. Stiles squeaked as he was yanked sideways and shoved against the nearest wall. For a moment, panic crashed over him and Stiles jabbed his elbow out as hard as he could; but then the returned grunt of pain made him freeze.

“D- Derek?”

The Alpha was bent over a little, growling underneath his breath. Then red eyes snapped up and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat as he went to retreat back even more. Except there was nowhere else to go. The cement of the wall was at his back and Derek slowly straightened, red eyes searching Stiles up and down.

Then the man leaned forward, inhaling deep, and his fangs promptly slid down. Stiles yelped, clapping both hands over Derek’s face, and the man growled from behind them.

“Derek, dude, put those away! We’re in public!”

But Derek was sounding a bit like an actual wolf now, so Stiles just guided him toward the nearest exit, hands still covering Derek’s face. He shoved the door and the moment they were out in the night, Stiles yanked back like he’d been burned. Derek’s eyes were still bright red.

Stiles’s breaths hitched. He batted at Derek’s face, earning another growl. “Derek, you damn asshole. Put those away!”

“What the hell happened in there?”

For a moment, all Stiles could do was stare in confusion. But Derek looked a little bit peeved, a little bit frustrated, and a little bit… hurt? And slowly, the pieces slipped together.

Stiles huffed, despite the way his stomach flipped. “Dude, that’s so creepy, oh my god. Could you try not sniffing out all my recent activities for once? What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you trained the betas on Fridays?”

“I do,” Derek said gruffly. “That ended two hours ago. I went by your dorm but it was empty.”

“So you… came here?”

“I was worried.”

Stiles stared at him for a long moment. Then he chuckled and tried to flick at the man’s nose, but Derek just ducked away. Stiles blinked at him then, tilting his head. 

“Dude, what’s up?”

“You smell bad,” Derek said, eyes flickering. “You smell wrong.”

Okay, first of all, Stiles had taken a shower before he’d come here. And second of all— “That’s none your business, Sourwolf.”

Derek drew back, the red fading from his eyes. But instead of looking peeved, angry, or even a little unhappy, he just looked stricken. Like the very fact that Stiles was walking around smelling like someone else was physically painful to him.

And okay, but it wasn’t like Stiles always smelled like himself, alright? He was surrounded by strangers every day.

“Derek, dude, I really don’t know what you wan—”

“Stiles, please.”

Stiles froze, his stomach flipping again. But that seemed to be enough of an answer for Derek because he moved forward again. The man’s nose traced along his collarbone, scenting fingers danced along the back of his neck, and Derek pressed his entire face into the crook of Stiles’s neck as if it was a life or death situation.

Stiles just… well, he just froze. His brain was moving slowly and he knew for a fact that he hadn’t drunk enough to blame this all on the alcohol.

But then slowly, like puzzle pieces, one thing clicked with another. And then Stiles yanked back so hard, he smacked his head against the wall and bit his tongue in the process. Derek whined at the loss of contact, Stiles tasted blood, and then the man was giving him a hurt look. But Stiles’s brain was lingering on one thing right now. 

“Oh my god. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

In a second, Derek’s stance was guarded. He started to draw back a few inches and the action looked physically painful. The man looked like he wanted to attack Stiles’s neck all over again, but instead, he just folded his arms over his chest and lowered his gaze. 

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are so totally jealous!”

Once more, the red eyes were snapping up and Stiles’s breaths stalled in his throat. Carefully, he stepped forward, uncrossing Derek’s arms, and the man whined again.

“Derek, what do I smell like?”

“Wrong.”

“Yes, but what do I smell like?”

“Not… mine.”

Derek was glaring at the ground again as he said those words. Stiles’s heartbeat stuttered and then Derek was growling. Stiles risked once more step closer. Derek searched his face, almost looking vulnerable.

“Stiles, don’t do this if it's not re—”

“Dude.”

Grey-green eyes flickered in and out of red as Derek clamped his mouth shut. Stiles could still hear the steady thrum of music from the club and the sound of voices from a little way down the alleyway. But he kept his gaze on Derek’s face, nodding carefully. 

"You can change that."

Then he was being crowded against the wall once more.

Stiles couldn’t help but squeak as sharp fangs moved up his neck. They nipped gently underneath his jaw and then traveled back down. But when Derek bit the spot between his shoulder and neck, it was all human teeth. Fingers traced over the back of Stiles’s neck again and Derek growled lightly, sucking marks all the way back up to the underside of Stiles’s chin.

He was so going to be swearing scarves for the rest of the week.

Or… maybe not.

Scott was probably going to flip out. Stiles might have grinned a little bit at that realization.

Then Stiles had lost all contact of the man and he totally didn’t whine at that. Derek moved back a few inches, studying his face, and then his eyes dropped to Stiles’s lips.

“Stiles, can I—”

“Oh my god, kiss me you furry asshole.”

And Jackson was never getting credit for this, ever. Stiles would like to say that he hadn’t come to the Jungle tonight expecting for Derek Hale of all people to show up. But if he’d know this is what would finally do it, he might have had come a long time again.

Derek kissed him softer than he had before. The hand cupping Stiles’s neck moved up to card through his hair and every time Stiles hummed in agreement at a movement, the man growled at the back of his throat. He tasted like mint, smelled like leather and pine, and Stiles totally hadn't imagined this before. He wasn’t a pining school girl, dammit.

But… but Derek kissed exactly like he’d always thought. Though that wasn’t a thing.

Except maybe it was now.

Stiles probably could have stayed there making out with Derek literal Hale all night except suddenly, the doors they ducked out of were banging open. Stiles yelped and pinwheeled back into the wall as Jackson came charging out, snarling and blue-eyed.

But one flash of Derek’s red eyes had the beta curling back into himself. His startled expression snapped from Derek, to Stiles, and back. Then Jackson drew himself up, a wicked smirk curling across his lips, and Stiles knew he was never living this down.

“Oh my god, Stilinski. You so totally owe me.”

“Jackson, get your furry little ass out of here or I swear to god—”

The beta didn’t need to be told twice, apparently. Whether it was from Stiles’s threats, Derek’s growling, or just his sense of self-preservation (did he have one?), because he only smirked one more time before backing away. And then Stiles’s heart skipped a beat as Derek glanced at him again.

And suddenly, he felt nervous. But why did he feel nervous?

“So, Sourwolf…”

“Is all of this okay, Stiles?”

Stiles stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head, moving forward and catching the man’s lips again. Because of course, he had to be in love with this idiot. Except... he kind of liked the way Derek growled at the sharp kiss. He kind of loved the way the man shivered against him and Stiles had caused that. 

Stiles nipped at his lower lip and then drew back with a grin. “I dunno, dude. Care to tell me what I smell like right now?”

Once more, sharp fangs skated down his neck and Derek Hale had totally ruined standards for Stiles. Now and forever. They paused against the bottom of his neck, warm breaths against his skin, and then Derek’s lips curved into a smile as Stiles whined.

“You smell like mine .”

And hell yeah, Stiles could totally be okay with that.

- -

I hope I did this prompt justice! I don't write jealous Derek very often so this was kind of new, but I had fun with it! Thank you so much for the prompt, Khale ma’am <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #all the fluff and humor #posessive!derek #jealous!derek #prompts #khalesprix

[aceofwhump]

Babe thank you x30000 for recommending SG-1 to me!!!! I watched the first ep and am halfway through the second one and I am in a blissful state. Daniel is such a smol hurt puppy who needs to be cuddled... Do you have any favorite fics with Daniel in them??

You are so very welcome!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!! And I couldn’t agree more about Daniel lol. He’s my favorite, my first whumpee, and one of the reasons I got my degree in history. Daniel means the world to me. I love him. 

Do I have fic recs? YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY I DO!!!! This got really long so if you don’t mind I’m just gonna post the links. Trust me. They’re all great :D

Don’t Mess With Danny

Bullies and Women Oh the Life of a Geek

Surrogate Father

The Barista (this one is not whumpy but read it anyway okay. it’s the best)

Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines

Don’t Go Away

A Change of Orders

HurtComfort

Counting to Ten

Tumbling Down

The Bridge

Need

Could it be Forever

Drifting on the Wind as Light as a Feather

Fire in the Belly

Trees Are Crying Leaves Into The Darkness

No Evil

The Stuff of Legends

Lost In Translation

The Perfect Recipe

Celebrate Me Home

No Man Left Behind

Beloved

What Dreams May Come

Cocidian

Solitudes Redux

Up Canada Creek Without a Paddle

The Thorn Beast

ALSO I am going to recommend some of the Stargate novels that are super whumpy and SO GOOD:

STARGATE SG-1: Hall of the Two Truths By Susannah Parker Sinard

Summary:

After suffering a brutal attack off-world, each member of SG-1 finds themselves stranded alone in the Ancient Egyptian afterlife — and on a journey through the Book of the Dead.

With reality shifting around them, Colonel O’Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson, Major Carter and Teal’c must each navigate a treacherous path toward final judgment in the Hall of the Two Truths. On the way, they will be tested to their mental and physical limits by their past mistakes, their greatest fears and their deepest desires…

In this classic SG-1 adventure, the team must dig deep to survive. Their only hope of escape lies in finding each other, but in this place where nothing and no one is what it seems, who do they trust and what do they dare to believe?

STARGATE SG-1: Four Dragons By Diana Dru Botsford

Summary:

It was meant to be a soft mission, something to ease Doctor Daniel Jackson back into things after his time among the Ancients — after all, what could possibly go wrong on a simple survey of ancient Chinese ruins? As it turns out, a whole lot.

After accidentally activating a Goa’uld transport ring, Daniel finds himself the prisoner of Lord Yu, the capricious Goa’uld System Lord. Meanwhile, SG1’s efforts to rescue their friend are hampered by a representative of the Chinese government with an agenda of his own to follow — and a deep secret to hide.

But Colonel Jack O’Neill is in no mood for delay. He’ll go to any lengths to get Daniel back — even if it means ignoring protocol and taking matters into his own hands.

STARGATE SG-1: The Barque of Heaven By Suzanne Wood

Summary:

Millennia ago, at the height of his power, the System Lord Ra decreed that any Goa’uld wishing to serve him must endure a great trial. Victory meant power and prestige, defeat brought banishment and death.

On a routine expedition to an abandoned Goa’uld world, SG-1 inadvertently initiate Ra’s ancient trial – and once begun, the trial cannot be halted. Relying on Dr. Daniel Jackson’s vast wealth of knowledge, Colonel O’Neill must lead his team from planet to planet, completing each task in the allotted time. There is no rest, no respite. To stop means being trapped forever in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, and to fail means death.

Victory is their only option in this terrible test of endurance – an ordeal that will try their will, their ingenuity, and above all their bonds of friendship…

STARGATE SG-1: Siren Song By Holly Scott & Jaimie Duncan

Summary:

Bounty-hunter Aris Boch once more has his sights on SG-1. But this time Boch isn’t interested in trading them for cash. He needs the unique talents of Dr. Daniel Jackson – and he’ll do anything to get them.

Colonel Jack O’Neill and his team are taken to Boch’s ravaged home-world and handed over to the insane Goa’uld, Sebek. Obsessed with opening a mysterious subterranean vault, Sebek demands that Jackson translate the arcane writing on the doors. When Jackson refuses, the Goa’uld resorts to devastating measures to ensure his cooperation.

With the vault exerting an increasingly malign influence, Sebek compels Jackson and O’Neill toward a horror that threatens both their sanity and their lives. Meanwhile, Carter and Teal’c struggle to persuade the starving people of Aris Boch’s world to risk everything they have to save SG-1 – and free their desolate world of the Goa’uld forever.

STARGATE SG-1: Hostile Ground By Sally Malcolm & Laura Harper

Excerpt:

“Teal’c, how far?”

The colonel’s words were clipped, each one bitten off like a curse as he knelt next to Daniel in the mud. Sam couldn’t see what he was doing, didn’t dare take her eyes off the rain-sodden tree line, but she could smell the antiseptic and heard Daniel hiss in a sharp breath.

“We are now less than a kilometer from the Stargate,” Teal’c said. He crouched next to her, staff weapon raised and his arm brushing against hers, making the most of the scant cover they shared – a fallen tree, rotting in the incessant rain. It wouldn’t do much against a staff blast but it was better than nothing. She glanced up at the heavy sky, the clouds hiding a multitude of dangers. If those gliders came back…

Breathing hard, breathing through pain, Daniel said, “I’m okay. I can make it.”

“Damn right you can.” The colonel’s growl made it an order as he ripped open another field dressing. Sam heard Daniel’s shout of pain as the colonel pressed the bandage onto the wound. She didn’t know how badly he was injured, but it had to be serious for the colonel to risk stopping their breakneck flight to the Stargate.

Movement – a fleeting shadow back in the tree line. She wiped rain from her face and eyes, squinting through the curtain of water that slanted across the open ground between SG-1 and the edge of the forest. Yes, there it was again, a glint of gold amid the trees. “Sir,” she said, finger itchy on the trigger, “you might want to hurry that up.”

“What do you think I’m doing, Carter?”

She ignored his sharp tone. “Teal’c, do you see them? Two-o’clock.”

“I do.” He shifted his position, taking aim.

“Sir?” she risked a glance over her shoulder. Daniel was ashen, his jacket torn and dark with blood where the staff blast had hit, just above the hip and below his tac vest. She glimpsed a white compression bandage through the torn fabric. He grimaced as he moved, trying to stand.

The colonel put a restraining hand on his shoulder and looked over at Sam. She knew that look, the flat uncompromising expression that shut everything down. It meant they were in trouble. “Daniel and I are gonna head for the gate,” he said, starting to pack away the med-kit with quick, efficient movements. “You and Teal’c hold them here as long as you can, then come after us.” He stuffed his gear back into his vest and tugged the bill of his cap lower. “Don’t leave it too long, Major.”

She understood. If they were too slow getting back to the gate, there was a real danger they’d be outflanked. “Yes sir. Good luck.”

His only reply was a curt nod before he turned to Daniel. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Daniel said, teeth gritted. “How hard can it be?”

“Attaboy,” the colonel said as he helped Daniel to his feet. “We might have to run.”

Daniel nodded, turning from ashen to milky, but determined as ever. “Let’s go.”

Sam looked away, back to the enemy hiding in the trees, but not before she’d seen the bloom of scarlet on Daniel’s dressing. She swallowed a hard knot of anxiety. It would be difficult enough to make it to the gate carrying a wound like that, let alone with a platoon of Jaffa on their heels.

“The enemy is moving,” Teal’c murmured as several Jaffa emerged from the trees, keeping low as they scanned the scrubby clearing. Sam ducked behind their cover, not wanting to give away their position. “Go now, O’Neill,” Teal’c said softly. “We will cover your retreat and hold this position as long as possible.”

“Counting on it,” the colonel said.

With Daniel’s arm looped over his shoulder, he headed out into the sparse woodland that ran all the way back to the Stargate. Sam winced at their slow, awkward pace. At that rate, they’d never reach the gate before the Jaffa.

A squall of rain blew into her face and she had to turn away, squeezing her eyes shut. When she looked back, Daniel and the colonel were gone, the rain at least helping to hide them from the advancing Jaffa, even if it did make the muddy ground slick and treacherous under foot. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she squirmed around and shivered as a trickle of rain slid down her neck and under her collar. “Daniel’s moving pretty slow,” she whispered, taking a bead on one of the Jaffa and switching her weapon to single shot. “Do you think they’ll make it in time?” Even through the rain, she knew she’d hit her target. But not yet, let them come out a little further from the cover of the trees.

“It is possible,” Teal’c said, “that one of us will need to precede them to the Stargate and hold it against the Jaffa.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, a beat of fear kicking in her chest, “that’s what I figured.”

#theladyoffangorn #whump #stargate sg1 #daniel jackson #mod replies #mod post #mods fic recs #fanfics #fic recs #daniel jackson whump #the king of whump #books #recs