Need to toss some of my Steph HCs out into the world because she's my shayla đĽşđĽş
Steph has the kind of laugh that lights up the room, she's so loud and bubbly, the kind who laughs from her stomach. When she and Tim were together, he was infatuated with making her smile/laugh
This of course resulted in a LOT of playfighting during downtime in patrol. Robin and Spoiler playing rooftop tag that ends in loud tickle fights that alerts all the building residents of the vigilantes on their roof? Yeah. At first Batman pried them apart but after the third time he gave up and just let them play until they were tired out enough to send them back to the cave early (he totally doesn't have the cowl footage saved and rewatches it when he's moody... noooo who told you that...)
SO weak to tummy tickles! she will argue with you that she's "not that bad" in comparison to Jay and Tim but slow circles getting closer to her belly button makes her giggle just as bad
OBNOXIOUS LEE STEPH... She can AND WILL sit in your lap to distract you until you pay attention to her!!! She mainly did this to Tim or Cass, once she hung out more with Babs, Jay, and Duke she did this with them too. Her favorite thing is exaggeratingly stretching her arms over her head and - oops, did she smack your face? Soooo sorryyyyy, maybe you should *wink* do something about that?
She's more careful to sit on Dick, mainly because the others will playfully argue with her and give her a fighting chance to escape. Dick will LOCK HER DOWN and give no mercy. He likes tazing Steph on the sides so she jumps and squeals, but as soon as she's scrambling out of his seat he grabs her by the wrists and hauls her back in until she's screaming with laughter
She does NAWT do this with Bruce. She watched Tim do it one time and decided she was never going to be foolish enough to do the same (that is a lie, she will eventually succumb to her curiosity...)
She loves bullying Damian. That's her lil guy? Her special lil man?? She's not afraid to just grab him during cooldown and target his knees until he's wheezing with giggles because "that's what big sisters do!" "I was told that's what big brothers do." "I'm an honorary bro, bro."
Steph is the batkid who gets away with the most in terms of teasing others, except Dick who she discounts bc he's 1) the universal big brother 2) evil đââď¸đââď¸. She's usually clever enough to entice someone (cough Tim cough) into ganging up on people with her, and then helping get revenge on her helper. This works great until she gets Cass to help her, who immediately grabs her upon retreat and they gang up on Steph instead. She totally didn't want this to happen when she asked Cass for help noooo what are you talking about haha are you crazy
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
Jason stares at the screen, desperately willing himself to focus on the movie and find a happy place in it. A happy place far, far away from here, where he could be rewatching his favorite film alone in the comfort of his own apartment. With a blanket and Alfredâs cookies, preferably.
He is not in his own apartment.
Wayne family movie night. Why exactly had he agreed to Wayne family movie night?
A bout of insanity. Jason considers fratricide for the sixth time within the last four hours as popcorn gets tossed across the living room, Titusâ delighted barking louder than the television. Itâs made worse by the man of the house tucked awkwardly between him and the sofa end, Dick on his other side, and Jason huddled much more closely to the latter for obvious, unspoken reasons. Heâd meant to sit on the floor so Damian could take his proper âblood sonâ seat next to Bruce, but Titus had refused to leave the armchair and so heâd relocated. Cass and Steph shared the other armchair, Tim and Duke draped on the floor, a bowl of already half-spilt popcorn between them.
Everyoneâs talking, simultaneously as caught up in their own conversations as they are chucking popcorn in wide arcs into each otherâs mouths. Jason knows itâs fine, the norm when it comes to movie nights, at least the few heâd bothered to come by before this one. Itâs less about the movie and more about the tradition, the bonding of a fractured family taking a few hoursâ time to reintroduce themselves to each other, finding safety in the cracks. He gets it, really. He even kind of likes it most days, though heâd rather be put back into the grave again than say it out loud.
But it was his turn to pick the film, and theyâre finally about two minutes from the first meeting of Darcy and Elizabeth, and heâd really love it if everyone would just shut up for all of five minutes so he can rewatch the scene he had memorized since he was thirteen.
His knee bounces in irritation, just hard enough to shake the couch and subsequently, Dick. His brother shoots him an apologetic look at the noise to which Jason glares hard enough he hopes the sofa bursts into flames. It doesnât, but it would have been cool.
âI can tell them to be quiet,â Dick says.
âWith this family? Youâd be better off shipping them to the circus.â
A smile crosses Dickâs face. âTheyâre even louder than a circus. Iâd know.â
âYouâre louder than a circus,â Jason rolls his eyes, but he takes the attempt at comfort for what it is, shifting in his seat enough to be pressed closer to Dick. Heâs got his feet tucked against Dickâs leg, knee digging into his shoulder, but Dick doesnât even seem to care. He probably likes it, the way he swings one arm around his legs like a weird half hug for his lower body.
Itâs not horrible.
Something unreadable crosses Dickâs face before he squeezes Jasonâs knee. Itâs probably another attempt at comfort, but his thumb drags a little too quickly in the movement and Jason yelps. The room quiets.
Fuck.
His knee pulls inwards, flushing before he even meets the sudden mischievous twinkle in Dickâs eye. Some part of him, twelve and completely caught unawares, wants to curl up in a ball and hide. The other, nineteen and ruling the East side of Gotham, thinks about strategic retreat and desperately does not try to remember all the times running led to him being caught and curled up anyway. He inches backwards, aware of the press of decorative throw pillows at his side and the sudden attention of everyone in a room, a sheep caught before a pack of wolves.
âLittle wing,â Dick coos. His hand follows Jasonâs leg, sliding down to his ankle. Itâs probably meant to be a comforting weight if not for how Dickâs grin widens to flash teeth. âI didnât know you were stillââ
âIâm not.â He must run or hide. There are a hundred rooms in this manor, but heâs up against Bats. Thereâs a hundred more miles on the manor grounds, but heâs up against the Bats. Jason squirms further back against the sofa, scooting awkwardly upwards when he hits a hard surface. It takes a minute to realize the hard surface is Bruce, and that by the time he realizes it heâs already halfway on his dadâs lap, leaning into a warm chest. While everyone elseâs gaze has turned predatory, calculating, the weight of Bruceâs stare on his head doesnât ring as dangerously as the others. He risks a glance backwards.
Bruce smiles down at him. Itâs a perfect dad smile, small and fond, and Jasonâs mind races because itâs the exact same smile Bruce used to have when ruffling his hair on ice cream trips on rooftops overseeing Gotham. It is also, unfortunately, the same smile Bruce had after driving him to mirthful tears in âpost-patrol injury checksâ that heâs nearly certain were just an excuse to torment him. Heâs never really known how to respond when Bruce directs the full force of that smile on him.
Evidently, he still doesnât.
Run or hide. Sheep or wolf.
âB,â Jason says. His voice tremors the slightest bit. âB, tell him Iâm not.â
Bruceâs hands steady him, one on his shoulder, the other bracing his thigh. The one on his shoulder squeezes, comforting. Jason swallows.
âJaylad,â Bruce starts. His smile doesnât waver. Sheep, his mind begs. Sheep, hide, sheep! âTell him youâre not what?â
A wolf in sheepâs clothing. Fucking hell.
Jasonâs already throwing himself to the side before Bruce finishes the question, but the arm on his shoulder tugs him back too easily. He yelps, entirely unrelated to the squeeze of Bruceâs hand, and then Dickâs hands are pushing him down, trying to straddle his thighs.
âFuck off!â Jason shouts, squirming enough to free his right hand. He throws a punch to Dickâs face and misses by a meter when Bruceâs hand jumps up to dig into his armpit. The noise that escapes him is embarrassing and he shoves a little desperately at Bruceâs hands when his voice grows high and squeaky with every tweak of fingers on squishy, sensitive flesh. âWait, wait, Dickhead, donât!â
âDonât what?â Dick asks, and heâs not even trying to hide the sappiness of his smile anymore. Jason gets a faceful of the whole smiley Grayson experience, all soft and big brotherly, and heâd maybe appreciate it more if it didnât also come with Dick lightly drumming his fingers over his stomach. One gets too close to his navel and Jason flinches, feeling his mouth grow into a grin against his permission.
âGo on, Jay,â Bruce says. Heâs got Jason pinned easily, one arm tucked under his knee and the other caught in his hand slowly being moved into the same trap. He swallows as Bruce leans over, coaxing. âAnswer your brother.â
Heâd rather die, thanks.
Jason bites his lip, looking back at Dick but meets Stephâs eyes instead. Everyoneâs eyes are on him, the movie completely forgotten though it drones on, enraptured instead by this new, humiliating entertainment. His face burns when his eyes slide over Cassâ knowing eyes, Timâs scheming one, flashing back to just two hours ago when heâd pinned Tim down over a stupid argument on the mats and left his little brother in ticklish tears. Heâd only made it this far with his secret safe because no one even bothered to assume the one guy tall and heavy enough to challenge Batman could possibly be ticklish. Heâd managed to artfully escape Dick every time he was in the mood, sacrificing Duke or Damian or one of the other little bats instead to so-called big brotherly duties. Bruce didnât even try, too awkward about pushing boundaries and then bulldozing through them anyway, leaving them in a cycle that was accommodated with more screaming matches than light-hearted play fights.
The agreement to movie night, to put on Jasonâs favorite film, apparently meant more than he realized.
âDonât touch me.â He tries to snap, failing when Dick ghosts over his hip and he chokes on his words. âDickface, donât you dare. Donât youâ!â
His teeth click as Bruceâs hands move again, pinching along his ribs as Dickâs rises to tease his waist. Thereâs mercy in their movements in that itâs not his worst spots, yet not at all because itâs a warning that they intend to draw this torment out.
âAw, Jay,â Dick teases, almost fond, before digging his fingers in a little harder to be the rotten menace Jason always insisted he was, Nightwingâs golden reputation be damned. He chokes like a dying fish. âWhatâs wrong? Youâre not watching the movie anymore?â
âNo oneâs w-watching.â The stutter is too obvious and he can tell from the way matching fondness seeps into Bruceâs expression that heâs smiling, even as heat continues to crawl up his cheeks. âYouâre both distrahahacting me!â
Stephâs whisper is too loud. âOh my god, he giggles.â
Death. Death for himself and every single person in this room, sans Titus.
A litany of curses swim in his head when Bruce manages to wrangle both his hands and Dick dives for his exposed armpits like a heathen. Jason clenches his jaw shut for all of three seconds before breaking into giddy laughter, twisting to either side in a pitiful attempt to escape Dickâs evil fingers.
âI canât believe this. Chat, is this real?â Timâs voice floats over, vaguely awed, vaguely vindictive. Jason wouldâve liked to snap at him if it werenât for Dick, the bastard, dancing his hands back down to his ribs and then back up again around his shoulders. He settles for flipping him off with a trapped hand.
âFuhahahack off!â
âWow, real rude for someone so ticklish.â
Itâs somehow worse hearing Tim call him that, of all people. Fifteen minutes ago, he wouldâve pulled Tim to the floor midway through his sentence and made a spectacle of his little brother. Hellâhe couldâve easily pulled Steph and Dick in to help him at minimum. Of course, fifteen minutes ago he wasnât screeching with laughter in front of his entire family.
âOh chat, you have no idea how real this is. Jason used to shriek so loudly,â Dick teases, tossing his head back with a wink. From the barely disguised wide-eyed awe on everyoneâs faces, itâs evident that of all routes they expected movie night to go that this didnât make it to any of their contingencies. It would be hilarious if literally anyone else was in Jasonâs position. âIt looks like he still does, donât you, little wing?â
Jasonâs jaws snap, trying in vain to bite Dickâs hands off, even as Dick only huffs when he scratches alongside Jasonâs upper back to obliterate the last of his reputation. He jolts at the sudden attack on (one of many of) his weak spot, voice jumping an octave when he shrieks just like Dick predicted.
âD-Dihihick! Dick, wahahahait!â
âAw, Jay, of course.â Dick croons sweetly and if that doesnât set alarm bells off in Jasonâs head nothing would. He squirms back on instinct even though all it does is make Dickâs fingers dig in harder to his back, swerving fruitlessly to burrow himself in Bruceâs hold. âIâll wait⌠for you tell me where you want me to tickle you next.â
âWhat?â
âOoh, evil.â
âShuhuhut up in thehehee peanut gallery!â
Heâs going to have to kill someone for this. Heâs got to be as red as his helmet by now; he was always obvious as a kid, giggly and red-faced from maybe two minutes of Dickâs big-brotherly nonsense, and the reality of him being in the same position now years later made something in him flutter obnoxiously. It doesnât help that Bruce is not so subtly looming over, eyes soft in that gushy dad way, and all Jason wants to do is bury his face into the folds of his sweater to avoid shrinking under the warmth of that gaze.
âDonât be mean to your siblings,â Bruce says. He shifts Jasonâs weakened wrists to one grip, his now freed hand crawling down teasingly as it flutters around Jasonâs ears and neck to make him giggle uncontrollably. Between Bruceâs slow, almost gentle tease and Dickâs pinpoint accurate clawing against his shoulders, heâs got basically no defenses. At best, Jason manages to kick out his feet, jostling absolutely no one into giving him mercy.
âIâIâmâtheheheyâre the ones beheheing meahahahen to me!â
Thereâs a chorus of chuckles at him around the room and Jason burrows himself against Bruceâs sweater instinctively. The coo that follows is definitely Dick and Bruceâs hand pauses just long enough to brush out the sweaty hair from his face, forcing Jason to blink up through blurry eyes.
Bruce is still smiling at him. For absolutely no reason at all, Jasonâs heart flips.
âWell, kiddo? What are you feeling?â
âYeah, Jay,â Dick interrupts, âwhereâd you want us to tickle you again?â
Fuck, theyâre so evil. Forget Batman and Nightwing, allies of the Justice Leagueâas far as Jasonâs aware, they shouldâve been thrown in with the Legion of Doom since he was twelve.
His skin crawls with anticipation as Jason squeezes his eyes shut to avoid catching anyoneâs gazes in the room. âJust get it over with already!â
âI thought you wanted us to wait?â Dick mock gasps, drumming his fingers back around to his sides. Jason bucks against him, trying and failing to remove him, and Dick barks out a laugh. âYou gotta make up your mind buddy, or Iâll just have to stay here forever. Unless thatâs what you wanted?â
Yeah, no thanks. Between feeling his mind melt away via giggles or shrieking laughter, it didnât feel like he had a choice either way. The thought of calling for help passed as quickly as it came; knowing these people, the only âhelpâ heâd be getting would be more hands on him.
âI cahahanâtâyouâyouhuhEHE B NAHAHA!â
Jason jolts with a scream as Bruce scribbles his fingers downwards suddenly, darting between his spine and the small of his back. Itâs like every single nerve along his spine has been suddenly jumpstarted into being so stupidly fucking ticklish; the sensation is made worse at the unbidden memory of his dad doing almost this exact move in this very couch years ago. He canât possibly get any redder than he already is and yet Jason swears on his life that his face burns even brighter as he shakes his head. âJUST DO IT!â
Dick hums. âDo what?â
âI FUCKING HAHATEHEE YOU!â
âAnd I love you.â Dick smooches his cheek despite his glare. Itâs not very effective through watery tears and he knows it from Dickâs peachy smile as he retreats, scotting further back on Jasonâs legs for better leverage. Bruce stills, placing his hand on Jasonâs waist. âBut that doesnât help clarify what you want me to doâŚ?â
God, theyâre really going to do this. Just sit here and torment him in front of Gothamâs best so-called heroes when all he did was sign up for some peaceful, torment-free movie night bonding.
Jason takes in hasty gulps of air while he still can. Heâs certain he looks ridiculous, red-faced with wet eyes and a childish grin stretched across his face, but he doesnât try to flee even though no oneâs holding onto him anymore. His self-preservation instincts must have been successfully tickled out of him because all he really wants to do, all he does, is roll his head back to peer up at Bruce with his best puppy eyes. âDad, please.â
Instead of answering with words, four hands make their way to his hips. Itâs absolutely evil, and awful, and heâs certain his mind blanks for a moment before shrill, shrieking laughter leaves him breathless. Jason jolts to life as he thrashes, freed hands pushing frantically at the fingers determined to destroy him, and he manages to tuck his head down and make a semi-curled defensive position that really doesnât hide him at all. Dick laughs overhead, one hand crawling from his hip to scribble over his exposed back, and Jason whines through his laughter at the dual sensations.
He canât even remember the last time heâd been ticked like this. When he was a kid, for sure, but when? Usually it was just the one or the other, and if it was both Bruce never let Dick torment him for too long before scooping up both his kids, one on each hand, and heading off either to the cave or to bed. Heâd never paid much attention to the specifics, not when he was busy laughing his head off, and even now he struggles to note whose hand is where considering heâs a little busy trying to melt into a puddle.
âN-Nahaha moooreehHEHE!â
âWhatâs that? More?â
Maybe if he curled up tight enough, he could find a mini pocket dimension to hide in. As-is, Jason settles for batting at the hands still tormenting him. He can hardly think, mind a haze of tingling sensation, and he hardly even notices how Dick moves from straddling his thighs to lying on his side allowing Jason to settle into his side, completely curled up. When he was younger, they used to tease him and call himâ
âIs that my favorite pillbug? I think it is!â
God. He buries his face into his hands, consciousness emerging warily as his shrieks peter off into hiccupping giggles when the hands still on him slow to a gentle drumming. Itâs one set of hands instead of two now, and he blinks tears out of his eyes when a hand ruffles his hair, nudging into it instinctively. He can hear cooing on the other side of the room.
âThink heâs had enough, chum.â
âAw, but heâs so cute like this!â
âAm not.â Jason manages a feeble defense. He feels exhausted, like he ran a marathon and fought killer croc one-handed at the same time. Bruceâs hand, steady as it sorts out the tangles in his hair, is unfairly soothing as the last of his laughter leaves him.
âYes, you are.â Jason blinks as Cass emerges from the sofaâs side, cold water pressed against his face. Jason blinks his eyes (when did he close them?) up at her, shooting Dick a warning glare before taking it and draining half the refreshing glass. She steadies it with one hand, taking it away with a self-satisfied smile. âVery cute.â
Heâd flip her off if it were anyone else. Her smile grows wider, and he lets her get away with her own ruffle of his hair. He must look like more of a mess than he imagined because she only seems to get happier with the action.
âHow very childish,â Damian scoffs, like he hasnât been staring the entire time, just as enraptured as the rest of the flock. âI can only wonder how Todd manages to become more pathetic by day.â
âDidnât Dick get you literally yesterday.â
âCease and desist your existence, Drake.â
Tim throws his hands up in resignation as Duke giggles, high-fiving Damian in gleeful recognition of their unofficial gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss-Tim agenda. Steph, always brilliant and unafraid to cross boundaries, waltzes up to where Jasonâs still sprawled against Bruceâs shoulder to poke him in the cheek. âStill alive, dead robin? Or do we have to bury you and wait six to twelve months again?â
âShut up, dead robin.â He groans, awareness of the room coming back to him steadily as he manages to pick himself warily up from the comfort of Bruceâs sweater. Now that heâs no longer being tormented or made the spectacle of their night entertainment, nothingâs stopping him from leaving. Jason could just pack up, declare them all menaces, and waltz out the front door.
He sits himself upwards properly where Dickâs soft smile meets him, nudging his shoulder playfully. If he focuses, he can pinpoint a memory of five years ago, the first-time hearing what heâd yet to know would become his favorite film through a billionaireâs sound system. Back before heâd become comfortable enough to ask Bruce to replay it, and then again, and then pulling Dick with him to the living room and begging him to stay just the night. Heâd even convinced Alfred to join them, and the night had been filled with Greer Garsonâs Elizabeth and the lazy snoring of the people heâd come to love.
He wants to hear it again.
Jason resigns himself to being swaddled between the two for the rest of the night. Through lazy eyes, he sighs and sinks back into Bruceâs arms. âRewind until the ball. And everyoneâpay attention this time.â
âSir yes sir!â Steph chirps before retreating to her perch with Cass. They rearrange themselves, rewinding back to the peace of the night before Jason became their personal entertainment, chatter softer than before but just as intimate. Comfortable. Someone presses play, and the opening music fills the room. Someone is still talking over it. He finds he doesnât mind as much as before. Funny, how that works.
His eyes flutter despite themselves, tired and content and warm. The hand thatâs been carding through his hair pauses to nudge his cheek. âGo to sleep, Jaylad.â
âThey havenât danced yet.â
Bruceâs lip touches his forehead. Unfair. âWe can watch it again next week.â
They can. They did, before. They could bring the whole extended batfamily here, Kate and Luke and Batcow, and introduce them to the glory that is proper adaptations. He thinks he says something in response, blurry and meek. Whatever it is, Bruceâs body rumbles with fond laughter, and the last thing he remembers before sleep claims him is Bruce saying something vaguely like home.
Hello, tumblr! I saw something on here the other day that worried me, so I decided to Do Science about it. But I can't do it alone: I need your help to build the dataset!
Here's what I need you to do:
If you see a post with a "mature content" label, and it's 2026, DM me a link to the post.
Yes, that's really it.
I am hoping to collect several thousand such posts, so that I have a decent sized dataset. I do not care what the post is about; if it's labeled as "mature content", I want to add it to my dataset.
If I get 10,000 posts in my dataset before August 31st 2026, I will post my preliminary findings then. I won't feel comfortable calling my findings "settled" before 2027, unless I get over 50,000 posts.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
Jason stares at the screen, desperately willing himself to focus on the movie and find a happy place in it. A happy place far, far away from here, where he could be rewatching his favorite film alone in the comfort of his own apartment. With a blanket and Alfredâs cookies, preferably.
He is not in his own apartment.
Wayne family movie night. Why exactly had he agreed to Wayne family movie night?
A bout of insanity. Jason considers fratricide for the sixth time within the last four hours as popcorn gets tossed across the living room, Titusâ delighted barking louder than the television. Itâs made worse by the man of the house tucked awkwardly between him and the sofa end, Dick on his other side, and Jason huddled much more closely to the latter for obvious, unspoken reasons. Heâd meant to sit on the floor so Damian could take his proper âblood sonâ seat next to Bruce, but Titus had refused to leave the armchair and so heâd relocated. Cass and Steph shared the other armchair, Tim and Duke draped on the floor, a bowl of already half-spilt popcorn between them.
Everyoneâs talking, simultaneously as caught up in their own conversations as they are chucking popcorn in wide arcs into each otherâs mouths. Jason knows itâs fine, the norm when it comes to movie nights, at least the few heâd bothered to come by before this one. Itâs less about the movie and more about the tradition, the bonding of a fractured family taking a few hoursâ time to reintroduce themselves to each other, finding safety in the cracks. He gets it, really. He even kind of likes it most days, though heâd rather be put back into the grave again than say it out loud.
But it was his turn to pick the film, and theyâre finally about two minutes from the first meeting of Darcy and Elizabeth, and heâd really love it if everyone would just shut up for all of five minutes so he can rewatch the scene he had memorized since he was thirteen.
His knee bounces in irritation, just hard enough to shake the couch and subsequently, Dick. His brother shoots him an apologetic look at the noise to which Jason glares hard enough he hopes the sofa bursts into flames. It doesnât, but it would have been cool.
âI can tell them to be quiet,â Dick says.
âWith this family? Youâd be better off shipping them to the circus.â
A smile crosses Dickâs face. âTheyâre even louder than a circus. Iâd know.â
âYouâre louder than a circus,â Jason rolls his eyes, but he takes the attempt at comfort for what it is, shifting in his seat enough to be pressed closer to Dick. Heâs got his feet tucked against Dickâs leg, knee digging into his shoulder, but Dick doesnât even seem to care. He probably likes it, the way he swings one arm around his legs like a weird half hug for his lower body.
Itâs not horrible.
Something unreadable crosses Dickâs face before he squeezes Jasonâs knee. Itâs probably another attempt at comfort, but his thumb drags a little too quickly in the movement and Jason yelps. The room quiets.
Fuck.
His knee pulls inwards, flushing before he even meets the sudden mischievous twinkle in Dickâs eye. Some part of him, twelve and completely caught unawares, wants to curl up in a ball and hide. The other, nineteen and ruling the East side of Gotham, thinks about strategic retreat and desperately does not try to remember all the times running led to him being caught and curled up anyway. He inches backwards, aware of the press of decorative throw pillows at his side and the sudden attention of everyone in a room, a sheep caught before a pack of wolves.
âLittle wing,â Dick coos. His hand follows Jasonâs leg, sliding down to his ankle. Itâs probably meant to be a comforting weight if not for how Dickâs grin widens to flash teeth. âI didnât know you were stillââ
âIâm not.â He must run or hide. There are a hundred rooms in this manor, but heâs up against Bats. Thereâs a hundred more miles on the manor grounds, but heâs up against the Bats. Jason squirms further back against the sofa, scooting awkwardly upwards when he hits a hard surface. It takes a minute to realize the hard surface is Bruce, and that by the time he realizes it heâs already halfway on his dadâs lap, leaning into a warm chest. While everyone elseâs gaze has turned predatory, calculating, the weight of Bruceâs stare on his head doesnât ring as dangerously as the others. He risks a glance backwards.
Bruce smiles down at him. Itâs a perfect dad smile, small and fond, and Jasonâs mind races because itâs the exact same smile Bruce used to have when ruffling his hair on ice cream trips on rooftops overseeing Gotham. It is also, unfortunately, the same smile Bruce had after driving him to mirthful tears in âpost-patrol injury checksâ that heâs nearly certain were just an excuse to torment him. Heâs never really known how to respond when Bruce directs the full force of that smile on him.
Evidently, he still doesnât.
Run or hide. Sheep or wolf.
âB,â Jason says. His voice tremors the slightest bit. âB, tell him Iâm not.â
Bruceâs hands steady him, one on his shoulder, the other bracing his thigh. The one on his shoulder squeezes, comforting. Jason swallows.
âJaylad,â Bruce starts. His smile doesnât waver. Sheep, his mind begs. Sheep, hide, sheep! âTell him youâre not what?â
A wolf in sheepâs clothing. Fucking hell.
Jasonâs already throwing himself to the side before Bruce finishes the question, but the arm on his shoulder tugs him back too easily. He yelps, entirely unrelated to the squeeze of Bruceâs hand, and then Dickâs hands are pushing him down, trying to straddle his thighs.
âFuck off!â Jason shouts, squirming enough to free his right hand. He throws a punch to Dickâs face and misses by a meter when Bruceâs hand jumps up to dig into his armpit. The noise that escapes him is embarrassing and he shoves a little desperately at Bruceâs hands when his voice grows high and squeaky with every tweak of fingers on squishy, sensitive flesh. âWait, wait, Dickhead, donât!â
âDonât what?â Dick asks, and heâs not even trying to hide the sappiness of his smile anymore. Jason gets a faceful of the whole smiley Grayson experience, all soft and big brotherly, and heâd maybe appreciate it more if it didnât also come with Dick lightly drumming his fingers over his stomach. One gets too close to his navel and Jason flinches, feeling his mouth grow into a grin against his permission.
âGo on, Jay,â Bruce says. Heâs got Jason pinned easily, one arm tucked under his knee and the other caught in his hand slowly being moved into the same trap. He swallows as Bruce leans over, coaxing. âAnswer your brother.â
Heâd rather die, thanks.
Jason bites his lip, looking back at Dick but meets Stephâs eyes instead. Everyoneâs eyes are on him, the movie completely forgotten though it drones on, enraptured instead by this new, humiliating entertainment. His face burns when his eyes slide over Cassâ knowing eyes, Timâs scheming one, flashing back to just two hours ago when heâd pinned Tim down over a stupid argument on the mats and left his little brother in ticklish tears. Heâd only made it this far with his secret safe because no one even bothered to assume the one guy tall and heavy enough to challenge Batman could possibly be ticklish. Heâd managed to artfully escape Dick every time he was in the mood, sacrificing Duke or Damian or one of the other little bats instead to so-called big brotherly duties. Bruce didnât even try, too awkward about pushing boundaries and then bulldozing through them anyway, leaving them in a cycle that was accommodated with more screaming matches than light-hearted play fights.
The agreement to movie night, to put on Jasonâs favorite film, apparently meant more than he realized.
âDonât touch me.â He tries to snap, failing when Dick ghosts over his hip and he chokes on his words. âDickface, donât you dare. Donât youâ!â
His teeth click as Bruceâs hands move again, pinching along his ribs as Dickâs rises to tease his waist. Thereâs mercy in their movements in that itâs not his worst spots, yet not at all because itâs a warning that they intend to draw this torment out.
âAw, Jay,â Dick teases, almost fond, before digging his fingers in a little harder to be the rotten menace Jason always insisted he was, Nightwingâs golden reputation be damned. He chokes like a dying fish. âWhatâs wrong? Youâre not watching the movie anymore?â
âNo oneâs w-watching.â The stutter is too obvious and he can tell from the way matching fondness seeps into Bruceâs expression that heâs smiling, even as heat continues to crawl up his cheeks. âYouâre both distrahahacting me!â
Stephâs whisper is too loud. âOh my god, he giggles.â
Death. Death for himself and every single person in this room, sans Titus.
A litany of curses swim in his head when Bruce manages to wrangle both his hands and Dick dives for his exposed armpits like a heathen. Jason clenches his jaw shut for all of three seconds before breaking into giddy laughter, twisting to either side in a pitiful attempt to escape Dickâs evil fingers.
âI canât believe this. Chat, is this real?â Timâs voice floats over, vaguely awed, vaguely vindictive. Jason wouldâve liked to snap at him if it werenât for Dick, the bastard, dancing his hands back down to his ribs and then back up again around his shoulders. He settles for flipping him off with a trapped hand.
âFuhahahack off!â
âWow, real rude for someone so ticklish.â
Itâs somehow worse hearing Tim call him that, of all people. Fifteen minutes ago, he wouldâve pulled Tim to the floor midway through his sentence and made a spectacle of his little brother. Hellâhe couldâve easily pulled Steph and Dick in to help him at minimum. Of course, fifteen minutes ago he wasnât screeching with laughter in front of his entire family.
âOh chat, you have no idea how real this is. Jason used to shriek so loudly,â Dick teases, tossing his head back with a wink. From the barely disguised wide-eyed awe on everyoneâs faces, itâs evident that of all routes they expected movie night to go that this didnât make it to any of their contingencies. It would be hilarious if literally anyone else was in Jasonâs position. âIt looks like he still does, donât you, little wing?â
Jasonâs jaws snap, trying in vain to bite Dickâs hands off, even as Dick only huffs when he scratches alongside Jasonâs upper back to obliterate the last of his reputation. He jolts at the sudden attack on (one of many of) his weak spot, voice jumping an octave when he shrieks just like Dick predicted.
âD-Dihihick! Dick, wahahahait!â
âAw, Jay, of course.â Dick croons sweetly and if that doesnât set alarm bells off in Jasonâs head nothing would. He squirms back on instinct even though all it does is make Dickâs fingers dig in harder to his back, swerving fruitlessly to burrow himself in Bruceâs hold. âIâll wait⌠for you tell me where you want me to tickle you next.â
âWhat?â
âOoh, evil.â
âShuhuhut up in thehehee peanut gallery!â
Heâs going to have to kill someone for this. Heâs got to be as red as his helmet by now; he was always obvious as a kid, giggly and red-faced from maybe two minutes of Dickâs big-brotherly nonsense, and the reality of him being in the same position now years later made something in him flutter obnoxiously. It doesnât help that Bruce is not so subtly looming over, eyes soft in that gushy dad way, and all Jason wants to do is bury his face into the folds of his sweater to avoid shrinking under the warmth of that gaze.
âDonât be mean to your siblings,â Bruce says. He shifts Jasonâs weakened wrists to one grip, his now freed hand crawling down teasingly as it flutters around Jasonâs ears and neck to make him giggle uncontrollably. Between Bruceâs slow, almost gentle tease and Dickâs pinpoint accurate clawing against his shoulders, heâs got basically no defenses. At best, Jason manages to kick out his feet, jostling absolutely no one into giving him mercy.
âIâIâmâtheheheyâre the ones beheheing meahahahen to me!â
Thereâs a chorus of chuckles at him around the room and Jason burrows himself against Bruceâs sweater instinctively. The coo that follows is definitely Dick and Bruceâs hand pauses just long enough to brush out the sweaty hair from his face, forcing Jason to blink up through blurry eyes.
Bruce is still smiling at him. For absolutely no reason at all, Jasonâs heart flips.
âWell, kiddo? What are you feeling?â
âYeah, Jay,â Dick interrupts, âwhereâd you want us to tickle you again?â
Fuck, theyâre so evil. Forget Batman and Nightwing, allies of the Justice Leagueâas far as Jasonâs aware, they shouldâve been thrown in with the Legion of Doom since he was twelve.
His skin crawls with anticipation as Jason squeezes his eyes shut to avoid catching anyoneâs gazes in the room. âJust get it over with already!â
âI thought you wanted us to wait?â Dick mock gasps, drumming his fingers back around to his sides. Jason bucks against him, trying and failing to remove him, and Dick barks out a laugh. âYou gotta make up your mind buddy, or Iâll just have to stay here forever. Unless thatâs what you wanted?â
Yeah, no thanks. Between feeling his mind melt away via giggles or shrieking laughter, it didnât feel like he had a choice either way. The thought of calling for help passed as quickly as it came; knowing these people, the only âhelpâ heâd be getting would be more hands on him.
âI cahahanâtâyouâyouhuhEHE B NAHAHA!â
Jason jolts with a scream as Bruce scribbles his fingers downwards suddenly, darting between his spine and the small of his back. Itâs like every single nerve along his spine has been suddenly jumpstarted into being so stupidly fucking ticklish; the sensation is made worse at the unbidden memory of his dad doing almost this exact move in this very couch years ago. He canât possibly get any redder than he already is and yet Jason swears on his life that his face burns even brighter as he shakes his head. âJUST DO IT!â
Dick hums. âDo what?â
âI FUCKING HAHATEHEE YOU!â
âAnd I love you.â Dick smooches his cheek despite his glare. Itâs not very effective through watery tears and he knows it from Dickâs peachy smile as he retreats, scotting further back on Jasonâs legs for better leverage. Bruce stills, placing his hand on Jasonâs waist. âBut that doesnât help clarify what you want me to doâŚ?â
God, theyâre really going to do this. Just sit here and torment him in front of Gothamâs best so-called heroes when all he did was sign up for some peaceful, torment-free movie night bonding.
Jason takes in hasty gulps of air while he still can. Heâs certain he looks ridiculous, red-faced with wet eyes and a childish grin stretched across his face, but he doesnât try to flee even though no oneâs holding onto him anymore. His self-preservation instincts must have been successfully tickled out of him because all he really wants to do, all he does, is roll his head back to peer up at Bruce with his best puppy eyes. âDad, please.â
Instead of answering with words, four hands make their way to his hips. Itâs absolutely evil, and awful, and heâs certain his mind blanks for a moment before shrill, shrieking laughter leaves him breathless. Jason jolts to life as he thrashes, freed hands pushing frantically at the fingers determined to destroy him, and he manages to tuck his head down and make a semi-curled defensive position that really doesnât hide him at all. Dick laughs overhead, one hand crawling from his hip to scribble over his exposed back, and Jason whines through his laughter at the dual sensations.
He canât even remember the last time heâd been ticked like this. When he was a kid, for sure, but when? Usually it was just the one or the other, and if it was both Bruce never let Dick torment him for too long before scooping up both his kids, one on each hand, and heading off either to the cave or to bed. Heâd never paid much attention to the specifics, not when he was busy laughing his head off, and even now he struggles to note whose hand is where considering heâs a little busy trying to melt into a puddle.
âN-Nahaha moooreehHEHE!â
âWhatâs that? More?â
Maybe if he curled up tight enough, he could find a mini pocket dimension to hide in. As-is, Jason settles for batting at the hands still tormenting him. He can hardly think, mind a haze of tingling sensation, and he hardly even notices how Dick moves from straddling his thighs to lying on his side allowing Jason to settle into his side, completely curled up. When he was younger, they used to tease him and call himâ
âIs that my favorite pillbug? I think it is!â
God. He buries his face into his hands, consciousness emerging warily as his shrieks peter off into hiccupping giggles when the hands still on him slow to a gentle drumming. Itâs one set of hands instead of two now, and he blinks tears out of his eyes when a hand ruffles his hair, nudging into it instinctively. He can hear cooing on the other side of the room.
âThink heâs had enough, chum.â
âAw, but heâs so cute like this!â
âAm not.â Jason manages a feeble defense. He feels exhausted, like he ran a marathon and fought killer croc one-handed at the same time. Bruceâs hand, steady as it sorts out the tangles in his hair, is unfairly soothing as the last of his laughter leaves him.
âYes, you are.â Jason blinks as Cass emerges from the sofaâs side, cold water pressed against his face. Jason blinks his eyes (when did he close them?) up at her, shooting Dick a warning glare before taking it and draining half the refreshing glass. She steadies it with one hand, taking it away with a self-satisfied smile. âVery cute.â
Heâd flip her off if it were anyone else. Her smile grows wider, and he lets her get away with her own ruffle of his hair. He must look like more of a mess than he imagined because she only seems to get happier with the action.
âHow very childish,â Damian scoffs, like he hasnât been staring the entire time, just as enraptured as the rest of the flock. âI can only wonder how Todd manages to become more pathetic by day.â
âDidnât Dick get you literally yesterday.â
âCease and desist your existence, Drake.â
Tim throws his hands up in resignation as Duke giggles, high-fiving Damian in gleeful recognition of their unofficial gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss-Tim agenda. Steph, always brilliant and unafraid to cross boundaries, waltzes up to where Jasonâs still sprawled against Bruceâs shoulder to poke him in the cheek. âStill alive, dead robin? Or do we have to bury you and wait six to twelve months again?â
âShut up, dead robin.â He groans, awareness of the room coming back to him steadily as he manages to pick himself warily up from the comfort of Bruceâs sweater. Now that heâs no longer being tormented or made the spectacle of their night entertainment, nothingâs stopping him from leaving. Jason could just pack up, declare them all menaces, and waltz out the front door.
He sits himself upwards properly where Dickâs soft smile meets him, nudging his shoulder playfully. If he focuses, he can pinpoint a memory of five years ago, the first-time hearing what heâd yet to know would become his favorite film through a billionaireâs sound system. Back before heâd become comfortable enough to ask Bruce to replay it, and then again, and then pulling Dick with him to the living room and begging him to stay just the night. Heâd even convinced Alfred to join them, and the night had been filled with Greer Garsonâs Elizabeth and the lazy snoring of the people heâd come to love.
He wants to hear it again.
Jason resigns himself to being swaddled between the two for the rest of the night. Through lazy eyes, he sighs and sinks back into Bruceâs arms. âRewind until the ball. And everyoneâpay attention this time.â
âSir yes sir!â Steph chirps before retreating to her perch with Cass. They rearrange themselves, rewinding back to the peace of the night before Jason became their personal entertainment, chatter softer than before but just as intimate. Comfortable. Someone presses play, and the opening music fills the room. Someone is still talking over it. He finds he doesnât mind as much as before. Funny, how that works.
His eyes flutter despite themselves, tired and content and warm. The hand thatâs been carding through his hair pauses to nudge his cheek. âGo to sleep, Jaylad.â
âThey havenât danced yet.â
Bruceâs lip touches his forehead. Unfair. âWe can watch it again next week.â
They can. They did, before. They could bring the whole extended batfamily here, Kate and Luke and Batcow, and introduce them to the glory that is proper adaptations. He thinks he says something in response, blurry and meek. Whatever it is, Bruceâs body rumbles with fond laughter, and the last thing he remembers before sleep claims him is Bruce saying something vaguely like home.
friends i forced @fuwahua to babysit me for my first anime convention and i spent so much money so clearly she did not babysit me well enough
hereâs our merch haul nyehe â¨
i picked up a few zhongchi stuff and there was even an artist that clearly loved zhongchi and i got to talk to him for a bit and he showed off all the zhongchi merch he owns, i was so â¨ââ¨
and there was a phaidei stamp rally with really cute prizes and there were a couple booths with heavy phaidei bias as well
i also saw a big shuake booth that sold out of a lot of their prints and another table that clearly loved sylvix. interestingly, outside of the zhongchi and phaidei tables, i did not see tables with a heavy bias towards other big hoyo ships but itâs probably better to diversify anyway
(starting my own post, i donât like rbâing long posts)
ty @/lovelynim for the tag ohoho tagging @fuwahua @xsezzie @keru0 and anyone else that wants to join, feel free!
zhongli (genshin): pretty princess i want to marry but heâs already married to childe âšď¸
jing yuan (hsr): pretty princess i want to marry
saber (fire emblem echoes): heâs just so dad
the priest (fleabag): listen i donât even find him that physically attractive but he grows on you and every time the mc is like âhello fatherâ i too am like âhello father~â like i get it i just fckn get it
Tags: Zhongli / Childe (established), flirting, CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!! (Lantern Rite), more flirting, childe doing idol worship but his idol is Zhongli
âWhy is it even though itâs the year of the snake, all the decorations I see are of Rex Lapis?â
âMm, is that the reason our living roomâs been redecorated as an altar?â
âAmongst other reason, yeah.â
Zhongli smothered a chuckle at the cheeky grin Ajax shot his way. It was no exaggeration that their living room has become synonymous with an altar as of lateâheâd asked Ajax to pick up some decorations for the upcoming Lantern Rite in the hopes that it would bring his foreign lover some interest in the holidays that heâd missed in prior years running between nations at his archonâs demand. After a fitful vacation thatâd gone south in Fontaine, Ajax had surprised him by showing up unannounced after work with the excuse that the other harbingers werenât looking for him for the next week or two.
It was surely a coincidence that Ajax was staying with him rather than the Northland Bankâs dormitory, of course. It went without saying the fact that Ajax was staying for the first week of Lantern Rite before his ship would be scheduled to take him back, just about as long as he could stretch an additional vacation, was coincidental as well.
Zhongli missed him already.
âWhatâs the point of a holiday if we donât celebrate it fully, you know? Besides, I donât want to hear any criticisms about overdecorating from you, Mr. I-buy-ten-things-every-trip.â
Zhongli sniffed. âThere is no shame in purchasing quality craftmanship at a fair price.â
âSay that to me when youâre the one footing the bill next time.â
âI will refrain from commenting on their quality,â Zhongli acquiesced. He turned to survey the room, eyes roaming over the blur of red and gold assaulting his eyes; the vast majority of the decorations did indeed feature Rex Lapis, which truthfully made an abundant percentage of lantern rite decorations sold this time of yearâfrom a purely business perspective, zodiac animals were seasonal and liyueâs deity was not. He believed Ajax that the amount of dĂŠcor dedicated to Liyueâs fallen Archon might have surpassed expectations, but he was hard-pressed to believe that the amount was so much more that Ajax had somehow managed to not bring back a single snake themed piece.
It was much more likely that Ajax had gravitated to pieces depicting him, even unintentionally. The thought brought with it both easy joy and a flustered stammer of his heart.
It would be easier to chalk up the urge to redecorate on the certain level of gaudiness brought about by a cluster of colors thatâd reasonably fit more in a night market than a household.
âPerhaps we could start with moving some of these banners to the kitchen,â Zhongli said. âThe lights can be strung in each room rather than gathered above the windowsill. The lanterns are very charming, but they neednât be so crowded; let us remove half and distribute them evenly amongst the bedrooms.â
Ajax snorted. âWhat happened to refraining from commenting?â
âFrom their quality, I have no complaints. I can see the care you took in selecting these pieces,â Zhongli answered honestly, arm rising to brush along the silk spun tassels hanging from a lantern. The soft fabric caressed his palm and he smiled, a vision of the wrinkle between Ajaxâs brows and the way heâd worry his lip over picking the one heâd deem worthy to bring home surfacing in his mind. âYou did an excellent job.â
Ajax flushed, the praise obviously pleasing yet unwilling to relinquish the battle yet. âSo why change it?â
âI believe itâd be more auspicious to prioritize quality over quantity.â
âUhuh.â He rolled his eyes, stepping in close to rest his chin on Zhongliâs shoulder. Ajaxâs arms closed around his waist, and Zhongliâs shoulders relaxed as the warmth of Ajaxâs torso seeped into his back. A finger prodded his side, making him jump. âAnd the truth?â
Zhongli squirmed as wriggling fingers dug in under his arms, lips sliding open in startled laughter as his arm snapped back from the golden tassel to feebly protect himself. It meant little with Ajaxâs hands firmly comfortable under the bend of his arms and he yelped as they buried themselves in the enclosed space, giggles falling free from his mouth. He shouldâve expected this from Ajax the moment his lover had wrapped his arms around him, but the dĂŠcor had occupied his mind too well.
âCome onnn,â Ajax prodded, dragging out the word as he fluttered his fingers along Zhongliâs ribs with ease to a squeak. âIt doesnât look that bad, right? Canât we just leave it as is?â
âItâs nahahatâitâs nahahaa gohahaood!â
âWhatâs so bad about it? Canât be so bad if youâre smiling like that.â
âYohahahuâre the cahahause!â
âAw,â Ajax cooed, mocking. âArenât you so sweet?â
Zhongli shook his head, cheeks flushing at the teasing purr in Ajaxâs voice and the meaningful drag of his knuckles over the bumps and ridges of his ribs. One hand climbed up to his neck, eliciting a weak shout as he twisted his head away from the sensation only for it to follow along, tickling the sensitive skin. The other wormed itâs way down the front of his torso, teasing at the hem of his vest and dipping between his buttons to poke at his bare skin. âWehehehe can leahahve hahahahalf of it! Stahahahp!â
âHalf? After all my hard work hanging all of this? What happened to admiring great craftmanship, huh?â
âWhat craftmanshipâwaHAHAHAit, nAHAHA!â
Ajaxâs wandering hands found themselves home at a very familiar place by this point, kneading away at Zhongliâs sides. His legs wobbled as Ajax dragged him closer, fingers intent on tickling at all his known weaknesses, and Zhongli laughed openly as he fell back against both the sofa and Ajaxâs body; the sofa scraped against the wooden floor, a sharp noise cutting through his giggles, and Zhongli gasped as Ajax shifted above him to grab at his hips. âEnohahangh!â
âHmm⌠I donât knowâŚâ
A laugh, gentle, met his ears as Ajax prodded his hips. Zhongli peered through squinted eyes wrinkled in mirth as the shadow of Ajaxâs face fell over him, usually dull eyes twinkling in amusement, reds and golds swirling in his vision between blinks. Zhongli heard himself stutter, warmth crawling along his torso, and though he squeezed his eyes shut once more the image resurfaced in his head unashamedly. âAhahahHAHAJAX!â
âGiving up already?â Rapid pokes to his hip earned a squeal as Ajax chased his giggles with a crooked grin. âWe can keep the decorations how I want, then?â
âFiheehEHEHENE!â
âJust fine?â
âYes, yEHEHEHes, okaHAHAy!â Zhongli batted at the hands, feeling tears prick at his eyes. âStAHAHAP!â
âYes, yes, fine.â
Ajaxâs fingers continued to torment him for a moment longer, dancing along his torso to weakened giggles, until the sofa shifted once more as he rose from Zhongliâs body. He sucked in the next breathes greedily as the phantom feeling lingered, curling onto his side to rub at his wet eyes. A jingle met his ear and Zhongli turned, blinking up to see Ajax standing in front of a lantern, the same that heâd admired the tassels on before heâd been so insistently tickled.
âAjax? Whatâs wrong?â
âNothing really.â
Hm, very convincing. Zhongli smoothed out his wrinkled shirt with one hand as he rose from the sofa, feet padding softly on the floor until he met Ajaxâs back. His arms closed around the other in a mimicry of Ajaxâs embrace and his lover stiffened, shifting uneasily, and Zhongli chuckled; as much as he desired to tease Ajax back, there was no need to tickle the answer out from him when waiting a minute or two would work just as well. He hummed as Ajax squirmed in place, mouth pulling rather comically, until Ajax sighed and pulled at the tassel to another jingle.
âIf itâs really that ugly, I can move a few pieces. I guess.â
Zhongli raised a brow, leaning over to peer at Ajaxâs face. âOh? I thought you were adamant on decorating however you pleased.â
âWell,â Ajax paused. âItâs your house.â
âAnd the truth?â
Pale cheeks reddened as Ajax averted his eyes. âThereâs no point to all this if Iâm the only one who likes it. I didnât spend all this mora for me, you know.â
No, Ajax hadnât, had he? Zhongliâs eyes twinkled as he cupped Ajaxâs warmth cheeks to a surprised stutter, and he leaned over to kiss soft lips. He broke away just as quickly, smiling at the familiar way Ajax chased after him, a short sound scaping him; his hand slid over Ajaxâs, tugging it loose from the tassel to wrap around his fingers instead. The same hands thatâd dug into his sides mercilessly rubbed against the grain of his palm now, needy, and Zhongli chuckled at the ease with which Ajax shifted between moods, so like the element he wielded.
âIt seems that my fondness of it increases with exposure.â
âYeah?â
Zhongli hummed, leaning back to better admire the look of Ajax against a background flush of Liyueâs colors. It did still feel a bit much, vivid reds and eye-catching golds in such proximity to the cool tones of Ajaxâs skin, even more so considering that much of said gold was shaped in his liking; however, he could just as easily picture another moment when itâd be appropriate to drape Ajax in those colors, in his symbols. Not in the present, certainly not anytime soon considering the hectic schedule of his loverâs duties, and yet the promise of it lingering on the horizon was enough for Zhongli to smile, tugging Ajax into another kiss.
Arlecchinoâs face remained unchanging, almost bored, as her hands absentmindedly combed through Furinaâs hair.
Furina swallowed from her position on those strong thighs, resisting the urge to fidget, as the silence dragged on. Between the two of them, she was always more of the talker and that went for almost everyone and every situation. It was just that she genuinely didnât know what Arlecchino was talking about.
âArle?â
âEarlier this afternoon, when the traveler wished to spar with me, you had a⌠transfixed look on your face,â Arlecchino said. Furina hummed, the recollection coming easily now: Aether had requested Neuviletteâs help for something, and sheâd been too curious to not come along. It was amusing to see him amass a team consisting of Arlecchinoâs coworker and familiar ginger (whoâs enthusiasm for the spar died rather quickly as soon as Aether explained he was merely there to support, not fight), a rather poor, sickly looking doctor from Liyue (who⌠well⌠she would never see the Traveler in the same light again after making the poor man run to the point of coughing up a lung), andâ
Herself, wielding her new vision.
Neuvilette had carried them through the fight in all honestly, just as Aether predicted. As reassuring as it was to have the Great Ludex watch her back, her heart had thundered when Arlecchino launched backward into the air and unveiled a secondary form with ease. Sheâd always known the harbinger was powerful, but even so, nothing had prepared her for the way dark energy cut through the grounds just by their team.
âDid I scare you?â
âN-no! No,â Furina gasped, shaking her head. Her reply was too quick, and she hastened to clarify, pulling herself upwards to face Arlecchino. âHonest, no. Youâd startled me, yes, but I wasnâtâI wasnât scared.â
Arlecchinoâs head tilted. âTruly?â
âTruly,â Furina affirmed. It had been scary, being in a fight, but sheâd known from the moment Arlecchinosâs amused glance met hers that she would walk away unscathed. And she had! Honestly, the main damage taken was by the poor doctor, and that was more due to running around than Arlecchinoâs attacks. On her end, there had been little more to do than summon the occasional hydro friend, cheer on Neuvillette, and be transfixed at how smoothly Arlecchino moved in the air.
The expression sheâd had staring down at them from the sky, completely at ease in her own power, was beautiful. And then limbs seemed to branch out from her back, and sheâd looked straight out of a fairytale.
âNo, really! Itâs just a silly Fontaine childrenâs story!â
âA childrenâs story?â Arlecchino echoed, leaning in closer. Furina squeaked as arms closed around her waist, tugging her into Arlecchinoâs shadow. âWhy wouldnât a Father be interested in that?â
Blasted, Furina and her lousy choice of words! She swallowed as Arlecchinoâs fingers pulled loose her buttons, cold hands meeting her skin. The contrast of temperatures made her shiver, and Arlecchinoâs looming overhead expression, just at ease as earlier in the day, left her heart thundering. âA-arlecchino?â
âMon Cherie, wonât you share with me the story?â
Furina jolted in Arlecchinoâs lap as surprised giggles left her lips, squirming at the sudden attack of tickling fingers along her bare skin. They circled her stomach, eager to map out the sensitive spots Arlecchino no doubt had memorized twice over, and she yelped as they slipped to needle her sides. âA-Arlehehehe! Why?!â
âItâs a childrenâs story you refuse to share, no? Then I shall deal with you as though a child.â
âB-but! Thihihehes isnât hohahahaaw you t-treheheat your kids!â
Arlecchino smiled, bemused. âYou would much prefer this method than how I tend to pull secrets loose from my children.â
âW-Wehehehhehehell! Lehehetâs tahahahalk about thihehhes!â
Thatâokay, that was probably true, but still! Furina let loose fresh peals of laughter as Arlecchino moved to dig into her sides, knuckles seemingly intent on rubbing along the curve of her waist in the most maddening way. But she was no match for someone of a Harbingerâs title, and every attempt made to escape was foiled instantly by how quickly she folded to a harsher nudge against her ribs or scratch along her stomach.
âWonât you share, droplet?â
Furina squawked. Share? What could she even say when she was busy laughing her head off, mind occupied by the sensation of Arlecchinoâs hands, now warm after tucking themselves quite comfortably against Furinaâs stomach. Her face heated up as Arlecchino leaned over, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the gaze seeking her own. No doubt her cheeks were burning pink, her fair skin making any attempt at hiding her fluster useless. Though even if it werenât, Arlecchino could probably still tell. âS-Shahahare whahaaht?!â
âPlaying dumb? Very wellâlet me convince you to recall.â
She shook her head as they continued their ascent, giggles morphing into wild cackles as fingers prodded, pinched, tickled every centimeter of her torso before petering back downwards. She squawked in realization, thrashing against Arlecchino as sweat beaded on her forehead.
âN-nahahah! NohaHAHAH! NAHHAat THEREHEHEHE!!â
Furina shrieked as Arlecchinoâs nails met her thighs, quick and deadly in how they slipped down to scratch at the sensitive inner area. She threw her head back, eyes popping open at just how that area was, desperation hitching her voice an octave higher. âPLEAHAHAHAHSE!â
âWould you like that? For me to plead you to share?â
Furina kicked her legs out as she begged through her laughter but trust a Harbinger to be anything but unrelenting. Those hands held her down with ease as they spidered along her thighs.
Spider⌠spider!
âSpiHEHEHEHDEHEHER! Itâs spihheheheheder!â
âHm?â
Arlecchinoâs nails dragged along exposed skin as Furina curled up, cackling. âStAHAHAHAP! NAHAHAHA MOREHEHEHEHE! IâLL SHAHAHAHARE!â
âGood girl.â
Archons, her face could only get so red. Furina whined as Arlecchinoâs hands shook themselves loose from her legs, fingers intently pricking her as they left; still, it was an act of mercy that Arlecchino leaned back and let her scrub at her burning face in peace. Leftover giggles left her winded, and she winced as she rolled into a sitting posture.
âAre you alright?â
âI-Iâm okay. Actually, Iâm way better off than that doctor from today.â
Arlecchino chuckled, eyes twinkling in amusement as Furina wheezed in a way not so different than Baizhu. Okay, maybe she needed to exercise more.
She squeaked as fingers met her side, intent. Arlecchino nudged her again. âThe story?â
Oh, that. Furina sighed, feeling the redness thatâd started to recede from her cheeks bloom once more; it had been a busy passing thought then, and it was even sillier now that sheâd had it tickled out of her like an interrogation scene from a B-grade musical.
âUm, thereâs a Fontaine childrenâs rhythm that, actually,â Furina paused, trying to recall it. âItâs about a spider. An itsy-bitsy spider, and it goes⌠up a well? I think?â
âIt rains,â Arlecchino said. âAnd it washed it down the well.â
âYes, that one! Andâwait, youâre from Fontaine. I forgot! You already knew the story!â
Arlecchino raised a brow. âI did. What I do not know is why you were so distracted by a nursery rhyme.â
Furina coughed, glancing away. âItâs⌠because of you.â
âMe?â
âYour transformation, today!â She snapped, the exhilaration of the earlier fight welling up in her. âIt wasâit was unexpected! You just moved your arms and then your body changed, and these extra limbs came out of you and you looked like a spider catching us all in your web. It was so cool! You were so strong, and confident, and I was totally wowed because you were so, so beautiful!â
Arlecchino blinked at her, blank gaze broken as surprise overtook her before fading into a gentle veneer of a smile. Furinaâs heart thudded when the smile was transfixed her way, mystique. âThank you, Mon Cherie.â
âY-youâre welcome.â
She fidgeted as Arlecchino reclined against the sofa, almost lazily, before patting her lap in clear invitation. Furina smiled as she crawled back, tension leaving her when the same hands that tormented her now combed through her hair in patient adoration, careful to smooth out the curls sheâd messed up in her squirming. She closed her eyes, sighing.
Tags: Alberose implied (Albedo/Sucrose), crush, terrible dad jokes
âErm⌠what did the thermometer say to the graduated cylinder?â
âWhat?â
âYou may have graduated but⌠but⌠Iâve got⌠m-many degrees!â
âAh, haha.â
âMister Albedo, please take this seriously!â
Albedo offers her a (genuine!) apologetic smile, the kinds of which that would send her heart aflutter any other day if not for the multitude of fake smiles and laughs heâd offered her a second ago. Sucrose smothers her face in her hands, embarrassed red burning through her parted fingertips.
She was never one for humor, not that she hated dad jokes or anything of the like! But they didnât evoke any laughter (or wincing, as Timeaus was often to do) from her. Albedo, however, seemed to have awakened an adoration for jokes after the visit of Collei and her friends to Mondstadt; in the weeks since their leaving, Albedo had bought 3 joke books from Margarite, attended the Catâs Parlorâs open mic night (and watched Six Finger Jose tell knock knock jokes for 15 minutes before someone shoved him offstage), and discovered Glory was immensely clever at coming up with dad humor. It was nice to see him smiling so often now and Sucrose had. Um.
She wanted to be a part of it. A reason he smiled.
âYouâre doing great, Sucrose.â
âIâm doing terribly.â Sucrose moans, shaking her head. What had she been thinking of when signing up for next weekâs open mic?! A whole fifteen minutes, dedicate to just her, her of all people, telling jokes? Dad jokes, at that? âMister Albedo, why didnât you stop me?â
âYouâre doing better than you think, I promise.â
âBut youâre not laughing!â
âI was.â
âYou were fake laughing.â Her ears droop as she speaks, squeezing her eyes tight as images of Albedoâs reaction to Cynoâs jokes in comparison to hers flash through her memory. In comparison to that reaction, hers was⌠lacking. âIâm truly no good at this, really.â
âSucrose, can you raise your arms for me?â
She blinks, startled at the sudden request. Still, she does, nodding to Albedo. âU-um, yes!â
He smiles, reassuring. âCan you close your eyes? And donât open them, please.â
âOf course! I will do just thahahahat?! M-misteheher AlbehehEHEHEDO?!â
Sucrose flinches, eyes reflexively opening by surprise as fingers dig into her armpits. Albedoâs gaze meets hers, lips quirked, and her cheeks flush red at her blatant inability to follow the instructions. Her eyes snap shut as she squirms, arms trembling. âW-whahahaat?â
âWeâre conducting an experiment.â Are they? On her? She yelps as he flares his fingers wide and then rubs the center of her underarms with his thumb, crooking deep into the groove. It tickles, relentlessly, and she squirms.
âDo you feel that?â
Of course she does! She nods, gritting her teeth before another bout of giggles force them open, shaking her head as Albedoâs hand shifts to her sides. Oh no, oh no! âI dohahaha! W-whehehehy?â
âYouâre laughing, correct?â
âYehehehEHEHEHES!â
âPerfect. Hold just like that for me, please.â
Does she have a choice? Sucrose gasps as the hands travel her upper body, scratching at her stomach, her waist, even skirting over to the small of her back where she bounces on her toes to unsuccessfully dislodge the hands. They linger there, scratching above where her tail would be if she had one, and she yelps. Albedo hums, almost undetectable beneath the shrill shout of her laughter, and her face burns unmistakenly. âP-PLeahahahIahahase!â
âHow does this make you feel?â
âHwahaHAHA?â
Albedoâs breath grazes her ear, and she gasps, quivering, before her arms snap back in a fresh peal of laughter as his hands dart back up to her ribs. âWeâre in Mondstadt square. Iâm tickling you. Youâre laughing. How does this make you feel?â
âI-it fehHEEHEhels,â Sucrose chokes out, shaking her head. Embarrassing, overwhelming, electric? The vision comes to her mind easilyâSara from Good Hunter across the street, eyes on them and her reckless laughter. Timeausâ quirked lips at the scene and his deliberate scooting over the other side of the Alchemy table to avoid them, focusing on his experiments instead. Herself caught in Albedoâs arms, eyes squeezed tight, and the persistent itching that runs its way through her body with every wriggle of his fingers. That her ribs are more sensitive than her arms and every nudge and bump between them has her gasping, yelping, and that Albedoâs hands are surely stuck there beneath her clamped arms. That her mouth is wide open in wild laughter, improper. And yetâand yetâ
âH-HAHAHAPPEHEHEHE! I FEHEHEHEL H-HAHAHAHAPPY!â
âGood.â
The tickling ends as abruptly as it started and Sucrose sags in relief, hands pressed against her aching ribs. Albedoâs hand rests against her back instead and she squeaks, ears flapping in alarm before realizing that his grip is steady, not teasing, as it rights her. âAre you alright?â
âY-yehehehes?â She flexes her wrists, her feet. No changes, not when she was only tickled for a matter of minutes. Still, her face remains warm, and she swallows. âUm, w-why did you do that?â
Surprise flickers in his gaze before he speaks. âYou were worried that I was fake laughing.â
She nods, still confused. âYes?â
âThink objectively, Sucrose. If this was an experiment we were running, how would we measure what is a fake laugh and a real one? How would we measure the effectiveness of your humor?â
âThatââ
âYou werenât laughing before I tickled you, an act that has nothing related to jokes. Does that mean your laugh was fake, then?â
She swallows, the pieces beginning to click. âIt⌠was an instinctual reaction at first.â
He nods. âAt first, yes. Yet, when I asked how you felt, your response was happiness. Did fake laughter lead to real laughter? Or was your laughter real from the beginning, even if you didnât intend on laughing? Sometimes, the line between whatâs fake and real isnât as clear as weâd like to think.â
That⌠that makes sense. Sucrose ponders as familiar sequences fill her thoughts; even though she wouldnât volunteer to be tickled, it honestly wasnât terrible being beneath the hands of the man she liked. And wasnât that why sheâd signed up for the comedy showâout of a desire to make him happy, even if she thought she wouldnât like it? It was true that Albedo seemed to react differently to Cynoâs jokes than hers, but how much of that memory was real, and how much warped by her own emotions? Rather than focusing on immeasurable factors, itâd be more effective to focus on what was right in front of her.
Like herself, and the man whoâd spent his weekend listening to her jokes.
Maybe she wasnât the only one willing to push herself for the other. She shifts, gaze flicking back to meet his, and Albedo smiles. Itâs bright, maybe even brighter than when he laughed for Cyno. She beams.
Tags: Yelan/Ganyu (romantic), sexual tension (non-explicit but very much there), nudity, pet names, teasing
âArms up, gorgeous.â
âEep!â
Yelan smiles as Ganyu cringes away from the measuring tape again, cheeks flushed red from just a few minutes in the same room. It helped, perhaps, that the Qixingâs little secretary was nude but a thin bodysuit clinging to her skin, and Yelan knew all too well how to dance her fingers along supple skin. She waves the tape in the air, reminding them of the task. âYou have to stay put for me or the measurements wonât be right, you know?â
âI-Iâm sorry, Yelan. Iâm just sensitive,â Ganyu says, her face deepening in color as she squirms. The very sight of her is dangerous, doe eyes looking up at her, inviting, so like the way they did just a night agoâŚ
She tweaks Ganyuâs side, chuckling as she quite literally leaps out of her arms, feet jolting upwards as her hair bounces in the air. Her face scrunches up in accusation. âYelan, please!â
Very well. Yelan rolls back the measuring tape, prepared to get back to actual work, only to still as Ganyu walks back into her sight with a nervous smile. âWeâll be behind schedule if we donât finish recording the measurements today. Canât you wait to ticâtease me after weâre done?â
Her face seems to redden at the thought, yet her eyes are earnest. Yelanâs mouth twitches; beneath that innocent glamour is a ravenous appetite, and the invitation to coax it back into her bed is all too tempting.
Still. It wouldnât be fun if she gave away too much just yet.
âAlright, alright,â Yelan sighs, raising her arms innocently. The tape dangles between pointed fingers as she relents. âLetâs get this done. Donât want to keep the higher ups waitingâarenât you lucky, getting a new costume made for Lantern Rite?â
Ganyu nods. âItâs an honor.â
âIâm sure,â she says. Her knuckles rap the small of Ganyuâs back. âTurn around for me, sweetheart.â
And oh, how Ganyu does so gracefully. Her blue hair spills past her shoulders, bare of her usual collar, wide sleeves, and Yelanâs shadow swallows her up easily. The tape comes loose easy, then tight, Ganyuâs breath hitching as Yelanâs finger taps along the shape of her sides. She smiles, slow, fingers tracing invisible patterns on still skin.
â72. Youâre doing perfect.â
Itâs impossible not to tease at least a little, fingers fluttering along bare skin, when a full course is laid before her. The tape comes with her, interlapping pinches and strokes with numbers and sweet serenades, and if Ganyu lets loose a few stuttered giggles when Yelan lingers too long beneath her arms, wriggling her fingers in that sensitive spot and then dragging them slow along her shoulder blades, wellâwhose to tell?
Certainly not the scarlet red of Ganyuâs ears.
â60,â Yelan pauses, drawing up a handful of wavy locks and pressing a kiss to it. âBeautiful.â
Itâs certainly not unnoticed that every compliment leaves Ganyu redder. Sweet serenades fall from her lips with ease as she draws the tape around ticklish spots once, twice, nudging the sweet points she knows well. Yet even as she teases, as Ganyuâs knees shuffle together when the wandering tape falls lower and her nails skirt the lines of her hips, Ganyu remains resolutely still, ever so careful to let Yelan finish her measurements.
Itâs exactly that unwavering dedication to the job that caught Yelanâs gaze from the very first day. She smiles, tender, as she kneels and wraps the tape around Ganyuâs thigh. Down the length of her leg, the width of her knee, her calves, her ankle⌠though she doesnât resist clawing Ganyuâs raised sole, meant to measure the length of her food, and Ganyuâs leg wobbles on a squeak.
âYelan! Please!â
Speak of perfect timing. Yelan grins, dropping the tape entirely.
âOh, didnât I say? That was the last oneâweâre done.â Ganyu shrieks as sheâs pulled back, dissolving into laughter as hands dance back up her body. Oh, sheâs going to enjoy this immensely; judging from the pink tint to Ganyuâs cheeks, sheâs not the only one. Yelan purrs.
âDidnât you say I could ticâtease you all Iâd like now? Itâs time to make good on your promises, gorgeous.â
(ËśË áľ ËËś) .á.á Happy Belated Birthday Eula!!!! Go have some fun (flirt) with your gf~
Tktober Prompt Day 25: New Discovery
Tags: Eulamber (established), food, birthday!
âYou⌠made all this?â
Eula breathes in the savory scent of steak wafting in the air, eyes brimming with curiosity upon stumbling on Amber humming in the kitchen, a cute bunny apron tied around her waist as she worked. The kitchen was washed in the sunâs gentle rays as Eulaâs eyes roamed the delicious spread of food upon her table, looking no different from Saraâs delectable cooking at Good Hunterâs. But whereas a Good Hunter order usually came in white cartons and thin bags, the melted smears of butter on the serving spoons and still bubbling fats spoke to a homier chef.
One that seemed right at home in Eulaâs kitchen, apparently.
âYep!â Amber beamed, smacking her wet hands onto her apron.
âI canât believe it.â Eula huffed walking around the table in awe. When was the last time amber make steak that wasnât burnt? âYou did?â
âHey! I worked really hard on this!â
Eula chuckled, tracing the table with a finger. Despite the messier plating, there was no dust on her usually abandoned dining table (she much preferred to eat out rather than cook for one at home). Amber hadnât just cookedâshe mustâve woken up before dawn to clean out the kitchen entirely before cooking. She circled the table to Amberâs pout before cupping her in her hands and pressing a kiss against those puckered lips. She tasted like uncooked flour and Eula smiled.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â Eyes fond. âI didnât realize you were such a good cook. Itâs a new discovery.â
âHehe, well, when I told them it was for your birthday, everyone pitched in. Diluc let me borrow Angel Share to roast these meats, Kaeya brought me some wine for the noodles, Noelle helped with the ingredients⌠everyone, really!â Amber grinned, perching on her tiptoes to kiss Eula. âEveryone wanted you to know how loved you are for your birthday.â
Her cheeks reddened. âI-is that so?â
âYouâre so cute, Eula!â Amber giggled, kissing her on both cheeks with a pleased hop in her steps. âOf course we did!â
âThatâsâ!â Eula huffed, flustered. Truly, how could Amber be calling her cute when she was prancing in her kitchen wearing a bunny apron, skipping on her toes. Gah, she was so, so cute⌠âBe careful, or Iâll have to take vengeance on you.â
âThatâs okay, I donât really mindâehehe! Eulahaha!â
Amber jumped as she slid her hands beneath the apron, blinking in surprise at the warmth of bare skin. Sheâd been so caught up in the cuteness of the apron that she hadnât noticed Amber was sans uniform today; the breezy cut of her tunic reminded Eula of her old Ludi Harpistrum outfit as she brushed her hands over the bare stomach.
She swallowed. âW-what is with your attire? Showing so much is hardly honorable for a knight you should realizeâŚ!â
âItâs juhahast clothehes! Eulhaha, listen to meheheehee!â Amber squirmed, giggling as Eulaâs nails traced over her belly and onto her sides, knees threatening to buckle beneath her when she brushed her hips. Eula bit her lip; how frustrating, that all her laughter did was make her cuter.
âAll it does is expose your weaknesses!â
âItâs fihiheheheHEHEHENEE!â
âIt most definitely is not!â
Eulaâs hands crawled upwards, seeking out the soft touch of fabric as the apples of Amberâs cheeks flushed ruddy red in her laughter. Her own face was no better however, tinted a bright pink as the warmth of her girlfriend almost seemed to radiate where they were flush. She could have blamed it on the cinnamon in the air, the bright sunshine seeping into the kitchen, the comfort of a hearty, home-cooked meal; yet as quickly as the excuses came, they fled her mind by the ring of Amberâs cheery giggles.
The best part of this morning was no doubt in her arms.
âHohohold on EhehehehHEULAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!â
âDonât shift so muchâAmber!â
Amber threw her head back in laughter, cradled against Eulaâs arms as her legs finally gave out. Eula yelped at the sudden shift in weight, pulled down with the other, and her hands ceased their ministrations to steady themselves against the counter instead. Amber leaned against her, giggling still, and Eula sighed.
âDidnât I say to be careful? You need to take care of yourself better, outrider.â
âHehehehey, I canât be held responsible when Iâm being tickled! Besides,â Amber grinned. âI know youâll catch me.â
That she would. The image of it came easily to Eulaâwaiting at the picnic blanket, watching as Amber whooped in her descent into her outstretch arms. Hugging her close and grimacing at the way her wings would dig into her sides, and then chuckling as Amber bemoaned the straps of taking them off so that they could enjoy the meal together. It was a sight sheâd seen many times before.
One that she intended to see for the rest of her life.
âThatâs irrelevant,â Eula said instead, biting down on the urge to smile. She felt herself failing, lips tugging upwards regardless of her attempts, and Amberâs pleased kiss against her lips was telling. She leant into the next one, eager, and savored the one after that.
The peace was broken only by a grumble of her stomach. Eula gaped, the easy warmth of her cheeks becoming unbearably darker, only for Amber to laugh and leap to her feet. With the same easy grace as always, she offered her hand forward, beaming brighter than the sun.
It was impossible not to take that hand.
âNow thenâshall we eat? Iâm starved!â
âI still canât believe you cooked all this.â
âYou better believe it! Youâll be eating my cooking for all your birthdays the rest of your life!â
âCarefulâIâll have vengeance on you if you keep that up.â
a/n: ler!zhongli, lee!childe â from the lovelytickletober list!
the woman off to the side is actually me
âââ
"I'm not wearing that!"
This was not going as planned, much to Zhongli's chagrin. Each article of clothing he had picked out specifically because of how nice he imagined Ajax would look in them were all being outright rejected by the very person they were meant for, which was disappointing, if he had to admit, as the complete outfit would complement Ajax's quite handsomely, while also bringing out a more mature look in terms of visuals.
"Well, what do you suppose we do then?" Zhongli tempered his tone, disallowing his aggravations to get the better of him.
"We?" Ajax folded his arms. "I'm the one that's going to Fontaine, not you xiansheng. I don't want to walk around in stuffy clothes all day."
"Fontanians take fashion quite seriously. Your current outfit," Zhongli paused, his mind wordsmithing a way to put things as politely as possible, "might draw attention in a negative sense."
"Oh? What's wrong with my clothes? It was just fine when I arrived in Liyue."
Oh, it most certainly was not.
"Besides," Ajax continued, "I don't really care what people think of me. It's supposed to be a fun trip with Teucer, anyway."
Ah, Ajax, your headstrong attitude has been and always will be a blessing, as well as a pain in the rear. "Ajax, I insist that you listen to me on this."
"It's not a big deal, xiansheng," the other rolled his eyes, hands motioning to his outfit. "What's the issue? Tell me."
In all honesty, there really wasn't one, but was he really going to let his partner walk into the fashion capital in his current state?
"Ah, well, the monotone shade of grey can be a bit.. unflattering to they eyes," Zhongli held his tongue, waiting for Ajax's reaction.
"That's it?" His expression morphed into condescending amusement. "Xiansheng, that's purely subjective."
"There's also the mask you wear," Zhongli mentioned. "The Fatui are a controversial group right now. You're announcing your association by simply adorning the headpiece."
Ajax shrugged his shoulders, unmoved by the critique. "Then I'll remove my mask? It just sounds like you're nitpicking at this point."
And the longer this went on, the more Zhongli was actually inclined to agree, but Ajax could be convinced with just a little push, Zhongli knew this well. His gaze shifted back and forth, mind running for a potential opening, until his eyes settled on a potential solution he could leverage.
"Fontanians are quite conservative when it comes to outfitting themselves," Zhongli started, slowly approaching Ajax as he spoke, "and I'm afraid this here," his hand landing right where Ajax's stomach peeked out from under his jacket, "might draw some unnecessary attention."
It was like there was a complete one-eighty in Childe's demeanor, a shift that the older man expected to play out as it usually does, but always brought him a little bit of amusement. "That's.." Childe grumbled, unable to refute the reasoning presented to him. "I-It's still not a big deal!"
"But it could be," he couldn't help but muse, wiggling his fingers over the exposed area.
"H-Hey, cuhut it out!" Childe snickered, taking a step back, only for Zhongli to match his movements with a step forward. "N-No ohohone's gonna t-tihihickle mehehe!"
"Are we sure?"
"Xihahangsheheng!" Childe cried out, now trapped by both of Zhongli's hands holding his sides, unable to wiggle away from the hand that snuck through that tiny slit in his jacket, as if the opening was precisely made specifically for Zhongli's hand to slip through, gently teasing the delicate skin underneath. "F-Fine, okahahay! I'll wehehehear the clohohothes!"
"Glad you finally came around," Zhongli chuckled, removing his hand from the giggly Ajax to ruffle his red hair, a small smile tugging at his lips in response to the scowl that he most likely deserved. "Now, don't worry, you'll look fantastic with your new clothes."
