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rippersz · 2 months ago

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𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨

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(Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader) (NSFW; Thigh-riding; Titles) (~4.7k words)

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“I think this is my favouritest place in the entire universe,” you admitted softly, your words slurred and muffled against the sweet-smelling skin of your lover’s neck.

“I thought your favourite place was your bed,” she huffed, lips twisted into a smirk.

“It is. But this is my most favouritest.” You moved your head, pushed your nose further beneath the curve of her jaw, and nuzzled closer into the corner of her shoulder and neck with a dizzy blissful smile.

The urge to sigh took over quickly and as you breathed deep, utterly content with your soft witchy pillow, the mixed smells of wildflowers, bourbon, jasmine, and gardenia filled your lungs. It was the most comforting combination, full of happy memories, a reminder of home, a staple of your Lilia, and when you breathed out, you caught the notes of the lemon shampoo clinging to her damp curls. Which, as beautiful as they were, were still incredibly unruly and slow to dry after a relaxing shower. They tickled your nose and chin, drawing damp streaks of water, and you reached up to tuck them away behind Lilia’s neck.

“Quit it,” she nudged you gently, shifting you on her hip.

“I’m not doing anything, your hair is getting in my way.”

“Oh now she blames the hair,” your lover drawled, “What next? Is my lap not comfortable enough for you?”

“It is. And it would be even more comfortable if you weren’t reading that stupid book.”

She knew you weren’t being serious–you loved when Lilia got a moment to calm down and read peacefully–but she’d had her nose buried between the pages of the damn thing since the moment you settled. It was about flowers and sigils and ancient forms of casting and other things you didn’t care to remember because you were snuggled up on the right side of Lilia Calderu’s body and you would not move even if the Divine Mother herself had begged you to do so. She was simply too comfortable, simply too soft, simply too perfect. Braless, relaxed, matching your rare choice of pyjamas for the evening: Underwear and a T-shirt, the latter having been stolen from Lilia’s closet even though you had your own. It was flimsy, old, thin, and also the best thing you had ever worn as you’d straddled her thigh, wrapped your arms around her waist, and happily realised that you could still feel each warm part of her body through the two layers of cloth.

That alone was a feat you had to accomplish together once upon a time—getting out of your comfort zones. It took a while before you were secure enough to open yourselves up intimately, to even think of getting undressed in the same room, to even kiss without skirting around each other first. You had your fair share of insecurities, but Lilia was a different story. She’d lived a life unlike any other, being a fugitive witch, skilled in divination, who travelled the waves of time as a skipping rock rather than a sailboat. Her upbringing wasn’t very liberal, much less accepting of homosexuals, and though she managed to get through life regardless, her preoccupied on-the-run mind steered her away from debauchery. All in all, that meant sex and intimacy simply was not as important to Ms. Lilia Calderu as it was to most of the population. She still felt the urge of course, she was a woman with such needs, but there was no time to desire a physical outlet - no time and no energy and no candidates. There was one girl in her youth, part of her original coven, and maybe a few flings in her mid-200’s, even something a little more long lasting toward the end of her 300’s, but the itch was never so persistent. It didn’t wait in the back of her head or lurk around right before going to bed, and it never came up in her thoughts when out in public. She was an adult woman with too many things to think about, focus on, and consider. She didn’t have time for desire. She didn’t have time to want.

And then you walked into her little shop on a rainy humid Wednesday afternoon, fuzzy-haired and wild-eyed, and the sight of you sent her careening into the future. She returned quickly, with an awed look, serious eyes, and the soft murmur of “The Wheel of Fortune”, and only after some time passed did you both realise that yes, change for the better was indeed in the cards.

And Lilia found herself wanting that day.

Then most of the days after it.

For about three years, that was her normal. The sudden uproar of desire, not incredibly strong (for her subconscious would not let it get that far) but definitely noticeable. She found herself thinking about you often, about your skin, your hair, your hands, your fingertips, your legs, your smile. She found herself wanting to touch. To reach. To caress and to kiss and to bite. Once the two of you recognised your attraction, you quickly agreed that anything sexual or intimate would be postponed. It simply had to come at a time in which you were both ready, open, and uninhibited. And if it took a while, then it took a while.

It took only two years, after which you finally gave yourself to Lilia and she gave herself to you. It was all very romantic; a dark evening, slow and desperate, wet and hot, quiet and needy. Completely unforgettable. It opened a gateway of sorts, a chance for you both to expand and explore, and after a lifetime of not being able to embrace sexual liberation, Lilia was finally given the opportunity. You encouraged her as best you could without overstepping boundaries, always willing to try what she wanted to try (even though she often found herself on the receiving end of your innovative thoughts instead of the other way around but nevertheless), always eager to do the necessary research if that’s what your time together required, never a complaint on your tongue whenever she admitted she wasn’t in the mood. No corners were ever cut when it came to the desire you had for your lover.

Except when it came to book corners. Those were cut instantly.

“What would you rather have me do, hm? Movie marathon? Bake a cake? Swim my way to Egypt? This is how I relax, now deal with it or get off,” Lilia snarked, moving her hand from the cover of her book down to your thigh to give you a small pinch. She was too quick for you to jump away.

“Owch! Mean!” You flinched from the sting, dislodging yourself from your comfy drape over her shoulder to fix her with a playful glare.

Lilia didn’t hesitate to meet you head on, taking her eyes away from her book to look up at you through dark lashes, right over the rims of her glasses. Glasses that she only wore when alone, when with you, with a little chain that held them in the place, with a shape that complimented her face so perfectly. They made her seem so… sophisticated. So… strict. A red candy-apple coloured body, slight cat eye details around the rims, and curved well enough to always be perched at a very specific angle on her nose at all times. You hated them. You really hated them. You wanted them gone. You wanted them away. You wanted them to stop being so tempting. She was already attractive enough - she didn’t need the fucking things setting your pants on fire every two seconds. And whether she knew about their effect or not, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter either way - her attention was excruciating, and to it you would never be immune.

“Get rid of this book right now,” you started strong, straightening up in her lap with a haughty cross of your arms.

“I’m busy with it,” she tightened her hold on her prized possession as if you were about to lunge forward and take it from her.

“Yeah? Well I’m busy with you, so lose the book Calderu.”

Her perfect lips pursed, displaying playful disdain, and you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow - just to be bratty. You watched as she considered her options, as she glanced down at her book, then back at you, then back at her book. And when she looked up for the last time, you changed your tactics and shuffled closer, moving up from her thighs to the curve of her torso - right by her lower belly. You pressed yourself there, dropped your eyebrow, and gave her the sweetest eyes you could conjure.

“I just want to cuddle, Lili. Is that too much to ask for?” You sighed, moved your hands, and placed them on top of the book.

Without fail, as you’d hoped, Lilia conceded. She almost always did whenever you addressed her like that, being so unaccustomed to pet names and terms of endearment as she was. To hear it from your lips was a tantalising thing, a sign of worthiness and ongoing love, and you saved it for your more intimate moments - just to coax her into doing something you knew she wanted to do but was simply too stubborn to go through with. Like putting her book down and giving you all of her attention.

“I guess not,” she grumbled a few seconds later, melting into your efforts, and you grinned as she moved to set her book down on the bedside table.

“See?” You hummed as you reached forward to gently pull the glasses from her face, being careful to first slide the chain from around her neck. “I knew you’d come around.” They were placed next to the book a moment later and you didn’t even wait a passing second before you were pouncing into Lilia’s arms.

Like an overexcited puppy, your body went squirming and pushing into your lover’s, wiggling playfully as you worked your arms around her waist. She accepted you happily, letting out a sigh and a big eye roll before you tucked your face into her shoulder again and finally let the stress of the day properly wash off of your body. As Lilia’s muscles relaxed, allowing herself to give into the comforting weight of your clinging, she placed her lips to your shoulder and gave it a small kiss.

“You’re going soft on me,” you murmured into her ear, delighting in the low hum that rumbled from her chest.

“That’s the point,” she whispered, lighthearted and gentle.

Lilia couldn’t see the smile that spread across your face, but it was most certainly all soppy, soft, and loving. Utterly gormless, completely bewitched. She had you wrapped around every one of her fingers, oh her delightfully nimble fingers, and you never wanted to be unravelled. Not when paradise existed in her arms, flashing itself behind your closed eyes as Lilia began rubbing your back and tracing mindless shapes through the fabric of your shirt. Circles, squares, stars, triangles, trapezoids, words and phrases, squiggles and lines, suns and moons. Eventually, her pattern changed and she began following the same familiar loops and curves you’d seen her do a million times.

From the top of your left shoulder blade diagonally to the plush fold of your right hip.

A pause.

From the top of your right shoulder blade diagonally to the curve of your left hip.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Lilia retraced her writing with the lightest press of her fingernails, going back over the loops of her ‘L’, the hills and dips of each letter, until she reached the tail of her ‘u’ and lingered there. One second. Two seconds. Until your skin began to tingle, and then she started to draw little circles, going from small to big in a slow spiral, and your skin began to buzz. Her caresses made it sensitive, bringing it to life, forcing the expectant attentiveness only an eager body could have as you sat in her lap and started to squirm. The circles quickly faded into nothing before the pattern reset. Back up to your shoulder blade, again across her name.

“L-Lilia,” you breathed, feeling your body grow hot beneath her attention.

“What?” Came her whispered response, soft like satin against your ear as she closed her eyes and placed her chin on your shoulder.

She didn’t seem to realise what she was doing. All the warmth that she spread through you, continuously, while her traces turned to touches and she started pressing her palms to your back. She felt so good and gentle, so caring and calm, and when you took a deep stuttering breath to try and grasp your bearings, to delay the inevitable downfall of desire, you were once again overcome by her scent. It blanketed your lungs, purred within your soul, and the wildflowers, bourbon, jasmine, gardenia, lemon, love… the smell of love… made you whine. It was just so Lilia. So nostalgic, gentle, light and intoxicating.

She sparked a warmth—a stringy, viscous, thick warmth that settled in you. Like a pool in your abdomen, it burned and lapped. It called to her from the inside, reaching for the sweet kiss of her mouth, the gentle curl of her fingers, the way her tongue felt when it dragged along the inside of your thigh. You’d felt it before, yearned for it before, gone hours with and without the careful delicate heat Lilia always managed to coax from you. And it didn’t take much. It never did. All you needed was a thigh between your legs. Pressed up against a thin piece of cloth, the only thing separating your cunt from her skin. Hands on your back. Warm and grounding, the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. A mouth by your neck. Soft breaths fanning onto your shoulder, the only thing that broke your flimsy resolve.

“You’re making me horny.” It was blunt, soft, and said with such�� tightness, you knew that it was obvious you were embarrassed.

You clenched your eyes shut.

How pathetic was it, after all, to be incapable of lasting a few minutes on your lover’s lap, receiving all of her attention, without succumbing to an eager lust? How pathetic was it to be unable to focus when she felt so good beneath you? Was that how your mind worked? So one-tracked? Was that how your body worked? So easy and loose for Lilia Calderu? Like a slut?

Yes. Yes, exactly.

You would do anything she asked of you. You’d be anything she wanted you to be. If Lilia woke up one morning and boldly decided that she always wanted you on top, that she wanted to stay in her pillow princess luxury and succumb to your tongue and hands until she couldn’t take it anymore, you’d do it. If Lilia decided that she never wanted you to touch her ever again, in history, and that she was the only one to harness any control in the bedroom, then you’d relinquish your own. If Lilia wanted you on a leash, if Lilia wanted you chained to a bed, if Lilia wanted you in a crate, on the floor, against a wall, against a table, against a ceiling, wearing nothing, wearing everything, wearing too much or too little, you wouldn’t stop her. You wouldn’t refute. Not because you couldn’t, but because you didn’t want to. She was a witch, a powerful witch, and a woman, a powerful woman, and the very second you looked into those neverending puppy dog eyes and saw the sadness and the strength, you were whipped. You were totally, absolutely hers. Lilia’s slut. No — Lilia’s girl.

But even Lilia’s girl made mistakes sometimes. Even Lilia’s girl was, in certain moments, too greedy. And the moment the words were out of your mouth, your depraved confession, her touch stopped.

It was excruciating.

Your chest hit hers with every deep inhale you drew, growing deeper the longer you sat there, and it began to shudder as your heart crawled into your ears. She was so still, so rigid, that your mind descended into worry. Did you ruin it? Did you say the wrong thing? Should you have left it? Ignored it? Maybe she just wanted to cuddle. Maybe you should’ve kept it to yourself, tried controlling it better, and returned to it in the bathroom after she fell asleep. Maybe you screwed up the evening because you couldn’t cuddle with Lilia for one second without wanting to fuck her brains out. Maybe..

“Do you want me to stop?”

You blinked. You didn’t really have a response. Of course the answer was God, no, but if Lilia wanted to stop, then you wouldn’t push her. You didn’t want her to feel obligated.

Lilia breathed slowly through her nose, off put by your silence, and pressed her still hands harder into your back.

“I- if-... if you want to,” you whispered quickly, terribly unsure with your wavering confidence but so desperate for her touch that you felt your mind grow hazy. Goodness, she was so close and she felt so warm. Your heart returned to your chest, eager to beat in sync with your lover’s as you felt her body slowly relax underneath you.

She let out a steady breath, so quiet you could barely hear, and then shattered the peace a second later.

One of the lingering palms on your back shot up to your hair, wrapped a thick handful of it into the curl of a fist, and wrenched your head back. You squealed, eyes tearing up with the sudden sharp pain in your scalp, and your body went falling into Lilia’s other hand. She held you up with only a flex and kept you there, suspended, unable to move.

“Be assertive,” Lilia commanded, not even giving you a moment to recover. “Do you want me to stop?” Her whisper was gone, replaced with a quiet serious depth, and you shivered as you looked into her eyes.

They were dark. Hypnotising. Swirling with chocolate desire, with the honour of love, and at the sight of her focus, her undivided attention, the knowledge that she knew — she knew you were dying for her – the flame in you soared into a blaze. It was a wicked sludgy sort of thing, intense and impulsive, and its hunger, its ache made you throb. Lilia’s hand twitched in your hair, feeling so much better the longer the sting settled, and the words were tumbling off of your tongue before you could catch them.

“No, no please. Please don’t stop Lili…,” your chest heaved with breath, affected by the feverish way she handled you, and you could feel the sickening helplessness of your expression. Brows furrowed, eyes wide and glossy, lips licked and cheeks dark. Pure want for your lover. Pure desperation.

“Please.”

Lilia considered you, running her deep gaze over your face. She took in the look of you, the need, and you watched her perfect lips purse, her beautiful eyes narrow, her dark brows furrow - before she hummed, relaxed the hand holding your hair hostage, and went to cradle the back of your head. You let her do it all without worry, knowing she wouldn’t hurt you, and sighed with bliss as she put pressure behind her fingers and brought you forward. Your eyes closed as your body was returned to its previous position, propped up against her, forehead pressed to the curve of her shoulder. Your legs clenched at her gentleness, at the contrast of her touch, and you shuddered as you felt her thigh, thick and soft and heavenly, stop you from getting any friction.

“Lilia-” you didn’t even know what you were going to say, if you were going to beg or if you were going to question or what you were going to do - but it didn’t matter.

She cut you off like a knife through flesh as her hands moved to trail down your sides, from the swell of your breasts to the soft plush of your waist to the dip and bend of your hips. Her touch was sure, strong, certain, and your hands flailed to grip at the back of her shirt when she suddenly settled her fingers into the hinge of your thighs and slowly, slowly, pushed you back. Slightly, a few inches, enough to have your legs falling open, leaving you there for a quarter of a second……. and then forward, slowly, to erase the space she made, to close the distance, to drag your core along her thigh. Once. Twice. Until you got the memo and started moving with her, whimpering as the ache in your abdomen started to ebb and flow.

Your forehead pressed further into her shoulder, lightly muffling the whimpers that dripped from your lips, and you moaned when she shifted herself forward to move her mouth up to your ear. It was velvet against your heated skin, teasing and sensitive, and Lilia took a soft breath in before she kissed the shell and whispered, quietly, like there were others in the room and she didn’t want any other soul on Earth to hear…

“You look like a whore.”

Then she sped up the pace, grasping your hips with more strength, nearing the point of bruising, and began pushing and pulling with smooth, quick tugs. You couldn’t do anything but hold on and move with her, shifting your hips back and forth on her thigh, and shiver every time your clit caught the fabric of your underwear. Your body had no trouble reacting; throbbing for her, dripping for her, ruining your panties while you clutched at her back and eventually abandoned her shirt to run your hands up over her bare skin. She was smooth, perfect, she felt like a woman beneath your touch, a lover, and you squished your cheek into her shoulder as you moaned. Loud, desperate, and unashamed.

“Lilia… oh god.” And she let out little pants for her efforts, lips parted and eyes hooded while she watched the way your hips moved for her, gliding with grace, slow like a dance, and the breaths quickly tumbled into soft groans as you shuffled closer and pressed your right knee up against her core.

“You feel so good,” you turned your head to whisper hurriedly, raggedly, into her ear. “S-so good…” And Lilia shuddered, biting her lip to hold back a moan as you began lifting your hips every time you were dragged forward.

Your sounds mixed so well, soft and loud and husky and whiny, twirling together in a lustful little symphony as your movements got faster and sloppier. And when your eyes fluttered closed and open in lazy blinks, you saw the tantalising skin of Lilia’s neck, shifting as she breathed, and you couldn’t resist. A strangled moan rumbled up from her throat at the feel of your tongue, wet and hot while you leaned in, closer, more, until your nose was also pressed to her neck and you could breathe her in. She tasted, smelled, felt like Lilia. Your Lilia. Sweet Lilia. Her head dipped as she pressed her nose to your neck, making you pant with desire at the closeness of her lips. You just needed them on you, painting you, opening up so she could be free to sink her teeth in and drink your life from your body if that’s what she wanted.

“I love you,” she husked, her breath making her deep voice shaky, and you responded with a harder thrust of your hips against her thigh and an open-mouthed kiss against her throat.

You were too far gone for words at that point, with her practically wrapped around you. Your mouth was open, your tongue was licking lazily, lolling like a dog’s, and your mind was fuzzy, dripping toward your cunt, only working to move you back and forth on your lover’s leg like a depraved little animal. A sickened beast. You couldn’t help it. Her thigh was the perfect surface, strong when she flexed, soft when she relaxed, thick and delicious, and shivers wracked your body as you followed the gestures of her hands. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A heavenly friction against your clit, leaving the desperate weep of your hole to ache. It felt neglected, throbbing for Lilia’s fingers, but riding her thigh felt so good and you didn’t want to get up, you didn’t want to stop, even when your panties began sticking to your skin. You didn’t want to stop, even when your head got so fuzzy, your belly got so warm, your body got so hot that your grinding started to slow. It was hard to keep the pace as you felt your muscles burn, but Lilia wasn’t having it.

“A little longer,” she huffed, finally kissing your skin, melting you from the inside out with her soft lips. “Just a little.”

You nodded, choking on a whine as you started up again and forced all your strength into your grinding.

“Good girl,” Lilia hummed, pushing the hem of your shirt away from your neck with her chin so she could have more room to kiss. “Good girl…”

“L- Lili-a- I’m… hngg… I wanna- mmmnnn….” Cum. You wanted to cum. You wanted to cum on Lilia’s thigh, you wanted her to help, to encourage, and you nearly fell apart instantly when her teeth started pressing lightly, gently, into your shoulder and her tongue began to swirl around your skin.

“Come on,” she moved her mouth to your ear. “Come on, baby,” her tone was soft, coaxing, and you could sense the tease in her words.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. You were left on the burning edge, singing your fingers, whining to near tears in Lilia’s arms as you heaved, shuddered, whispered pleads and begs beneath your breath. The pool of desire only grew, glistening below you as you hung above, so close to falling, dangling by a thread, rutting your hips over and over like it would help. The friction was barely enough, pressing so deliciously against your swollen clit, but you were so wet that only the smallest thrusts, the littlest shifts, were all you could handle before the sensation slipped away. It was so frustrating, pulling a groan then a distressed whimper from your lips as your legs began to shake and your hands scratched at Lilia’s back. Not too hard, you didn’t want to hurt her, but the little red lines and the sting were enough to signal that you were having trouble.

“Relax,” Lilia whispered, making you choke on a breathy whine. “Relax for me.” She spoke slowly, softly, and you breathed in deeply through your nose to calm your pounding heart. “Listen.”

You nodded and nuzzled into her shoulder, slowing the pace of your hips but pressing harder into her leg. It felt so good, so good, but not enough- not enough.

“You’re beautiful,” Lilia panted, making your thighs twitch, “My beautiful girl.”

“Hmmpngg- Lilia- Lilia-,” you whimpered, letting out a little moan each time you moved.

“I know. I know you need it,” she nodded, then pressed another kiss to your neck. “Can you let go for me?” Her voice was like warm honey drizzled over your bones and your skin. “Can you let go for Momma?”

A thick, blinding bolt of heat flashed through your body, making you sweat and shiver against Lilia’s body. No no no- Momma’s body. You felt the desire bubbling, brimming, so close to falling into bliss that you could only close your eyes and go quiet.

“I know you can do it,” she spoke slowly, taking the reins back and using more force to speed up your thrusts. “Let go for me, sweetheart.” Her lips brushed your ear. “Be good and give in.”

“M- Mo-” you were red-faced, vision blurred with tears, your lower lip quivering, and Lilia came to your rescue.

“Momma gives you permission.”

And just like that, saved by the same woman that tortured you, the thread was cut, the ledge crumbled, and you fell.

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BOO. - Rip x

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #lilia calderu #lilia calderu x reader #femreader #lilia aaa #agatha all along #calderu #ns/fw #lilia calderu aaa #wlw fanfic #Lilia calderu x you

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somnoir · 1 month ago

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Bats and Phantoms - Part 3

Part 3 | Masterpost

Cassandra and Jasmine

Jazz has always been concerned for her siblings. Why wouldn't she? Dan was a former world ender, Danny was ghost king (or was it crown prince?), and Ellie was almost always everywhere. In all honesty, if was overwhelming.

But she'd be damned to not love them no matter what.

Visiting Gotham to see if Danny was okay was... Well, she just had to. Somehow, her brother's have caught the eye of vigilantes and that was obviously bad.

Her phone buzzed and once again she's plagued by Dan's messages.

Younger-Older-Bigger: Should I stalk Nightwing???

Older-definitely: No. Please don't.

Older-definitely: We already have to worry about Danny getting stalked by a crime lord

Younger-Older-Bigger: Yeah but I'm not a crime lord

Older-definitely: NO

Older-definitely: STOP

Older-definitely: DAN

Younger-Older-Bigger: ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ

Why? Why did they have to be like this? Weapon training was somehow the automatic bonding activity for the Fenton/Masters siblings. Dan and Danny liked to fight with sword a little too much and Ellie was all to happy to throw daggers at people. Jazz preferred her lazers and blasters (though her aim was wonky at first, it got better... She promised.)

So here she was, in Gotham... Making sure her brother wasn't being seduced by a crime lord. But of course, she was a Fenton born and bred and raised. Gotham apparently had literal alarms that alerted the entire city of a massive attack. Her phone even got an alert from... WE warning. Wayne Enterprises?

Okay... Apparently Scarecrow was running amok and plaguing the streets with his fear toxin. Oh, Danny was going to go feral.

(A couple blocks away, Danny Fenton was high on the fear and giggling to himself. Yes.)

And also Gothamites carried gasmasks around. What a wonderful day to leave hers behind.

She's already cough, closing her eyes as she desperately tried to stay sane. Her liminal and almost half a state should have made the effects different from her but apparently she wasn't ghost enough to feel euphoric.

Stumbling into the closest building she could find, she's desperately gasping when a gasmask was pressed against her face. Jazz can barely register the dark haired girl with asian features who was hurriedly hauling her to her feet and away from the door.

It takes a minute before she's registering the girl, blinking when she saw her making gestures. Again, it takes her another minute to realize it's sign language.

Thank God she had paranoid siblings who took those classes in case they couldn't speak. But with her brain filled with feat toxin, she's clumsy in signing back but there's some mild surprise in the girl's eyes. But Jazz is conscious enough to notice the tense way the girl stood, how her stance was prepared for a fight. Maybe that was normal Gothamites behavior...

At least, she was communicating with someone. Someone who's really pretty too. God, was the fear toxin making her dopy? That can't be, right?

Cass had seen a pretty redheaded girl fall to her knees, and yet she had more resistance to fear toxin than local Gothamites. It was almost interesting really, but she's not going to dwell on it when this girl was choking for air.

Words don't easily process for her but her body moves without much thought, signing to her if she was okay. The girl, clearly disoriented, looks confused before realization bleeds into her strangely bright eyes—then she's clumsily signing back.

She says her name is Jasmine, like the flower, the princess—call her Jazz, she insists.

And she replies that she's Cassandra—like the character from Rapunzel, like the girl from Greek muths—just call her Cass tho.

When Jazz is in her arms, Cass can feel some muscles through her clothes. This girl wasn't as frail as she look. No. This was a trained fighter, someone who knew how to defend themselves without a problem. Cass should be wary, but at the same time she was worried.

She knows she should be going out there and helping but Oracle had immediately told her to help the civilians in the area. Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Spoiler were handling the situation but the civilians had to be protected at all costs. She might not be able to help as orphan in that moment but she could as Cass Wayne.

The commotion gets worse once Scarecrow's henchmen start raiding the place with every weapon they could get their hands on. She fights to the best of her abilities, watching, predicting, but what she didn't predict was a loud blast tearing through the place and shattering the window.

Cass can see a blast of green spark through the air before directly hitting the Jonathan Crane. The man is blasted into a wall, groaning before he's knocked out.

Her eyes dart to where the blast came from.

Jazz, the strange girl she has just met, was holding a strange gun.

(In the distance, Danny was still very much high and was not aware that one of his maniacal invention had actually worked in his sister's favor.)

Part 4 | Masterpost

#batfam #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #black bat #orphan #jazz fenton #crossover #Jazz: Wtf is wrong with our family's luck?!?!#Jazz: We're cursed. i blame the Nightingale blood #Danny is high as fuck while his sister is out shooting rogued on the street #He's a ghost snd Fear toxin is drugs for him #Cass isn't as instantly in love like her brothers because she is just baffled that this girl is resistant to fesr toxin #Bats and Phantoms

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