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blushweddinggowns · 11 months

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Idea expanded, adult siblings Eddie and Robin who are close (Both raised by Wayne, sorry Robin's parents I'm killing you off), even when Robin goes to another state for college. Eddie stays back, has his slut era, that unfortunately ends in him being a single dad. Or fortunately depending on how you look at it because he adores his kid. But it's still hard to manage everything. He's trying to go back to school part time, all while still working at his uncle's garage, and things are just hard.

But lucky enough for him, Robin moves back home at the perfect time. She gets an apartment with her mystery best friend from college who oddly enough she refuses to let Eddie meet. But oh well, he's just happy to have his sister back. Especially since she's always up for watching her favorite niece.

Though a day comes when she gets stuck at work, and Eddie has a final he can't miss with an asshole professor who definitely wouldn't let his three year old come with him, and he's desperate. Desperate enough for Robin to begrudgingly admit her mystery roommate is actually a daycare worker/nanny who is out of work. And she'll only ask for his help if Eddie promises to keep their relationship strictly professional. Which is weird and dumb but Eddie agrees nonetheless.

But then he meets the guy. And it only takes one shy smile and a simple, Hi, I'm Steve, and in an instant Eddie finally understands why Robin had been so adamant about them never meeting. Because holy shit he's gorgeous. Exactly his type. And it doesn't help when his daughter freaking adores him instantly. And like the brat she is (like father, like daughter) she only wants Steve to babysit for her from now on, all from spending less than four hours with the man.

But Eddie goes with it, mostly because he wants to get to know the guy more and because he is insanely cheap for someone so good at his job. And he learns that Steve is funny, and likes to cook, and has infected his daughter's mind with a brand new love for sports and the outdoors. But that's okay, because that means that Steve goes with them to all of the random WNBA games she wants to see. And shepherds them on ill-advised hikes that always leave Eddie's clumsy ass covered in dirt and bug bites. But it's all fun. Really fun. And Eddie gets to know Steve more and more, and likes him more and more, and starts to disrespect Robin's original rule more and more until it becomes undeniable that he's falling for the guy.

And Robin is not happy about it. She loves Eddie, but she also loves Steve. To an insane degree. Insane enough to not want to risk their relationship over the chance of him getting heart-broken over her notoriously bad at relationships brother. And Steve feels what Eddie's feeling, but he loves Robin more and agrees with her. And it doesn't help that he's heard a few unfortunately true stories about Eddie's past.

So cue to Eddie having to do an unscheduled emotional character arc just so he can get the privilege of dating Steve, with Robin acting as basically an overprotective sibling to the wrong guy, with his adorable daughter along for the ride.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic idea #bisexual eddie munson #steve harrington #but they are fun to think about okay #robin buckley #silly things #of my fic expanded ideas this grabs me the least #i will probably never do #but if i did #spoiler it works out #happily ever after is my motto #i don't read/write fics for reality yall what else would i do

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spectrum-spectre · 1 year

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I'm having steddie thoughts again

soulmate au (my achilles heel) where you see in black and white until you and your soulmate touch, then you're finally able to see in color

but ALSO - rockstar eddie and normie steve!!!

steve won the tickets for dustin through a radio giveaway, including backstage passes, and they get to be first in line for the meet and greet 👀

cue steve insisting that this is all for dustin and he doesn't wanna "ruin the moment" and embarrass him during the meet n greet because he thinks he isn't cool in comparison to a literal rock star but dustin BEGS him to come so that he won't be as nervous meeting 1 of his heros

so steve goes with to get their picture taken, (dustin is practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement) and right as the photographer tells them to smile, his arm brushes eddie's, and everything bursts into color - the exact moment they realize what happened is captured on film

honestly I've imagined a few different ways this could go: Steve goes to shake his hand right before the photo, or they brush arms, or Steve trips on the little rug mat while walking in and Eddie goes to catch him (insert Eddie making a "falling for me" joke, he's such a fucking sap)

idk I just had the vivid mental image of the photos being taken-the first one is when they make contact, the second pic is when they turn to each other with the "oh shit" looks on their faces, and the third one being them smiling/hugging/making out while dustin is LOSING IT

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dootznbootz · 7 months

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Honestly, when Odysseus is back, I imagine how he'd be trying so hard to really bond with Telemachus. Everyone else that he deeply cared about knew him from before, but Telemachus doesn't know him and he doesn't know Telemachus. All they know is that they love each other. And it made me imagine him trying so hard with "Father/Son moments" but he doesn't know where to start and begin.

Ody: "Here, son, this is how you tie a good knot when tying up animals. You pull it through-"

Tele: "Uh, Father, I already know how to do that... I learned this when I was around 13..."

Ody: "...Yes! Of course! Well done!"

But deep down he's so so sad. Telemachus already knows so many things already. Learned the things that Odysseus wanted to teach him but couldn't. Telemachus realizes this too, and I can imagine him sometimes pretending not to know something or, at the very least, letting his father tell the same instructions again to cheer him up.

I'd like to imagine Penelope notices Odysseus being sad about it and so she reminds him of a trick he did while young, something Telemachus doesn't know how to do. BUT IT HAS TO BE SOMETHING GOOFY! Could it be woodworking? Sure, but I also really fucking want it to be something absolutely goofy. Woodworking is useful, as is fighting, swimming, archery, etc.

Party Trick-level stuff! I want people to be watching the king and prince do something silly and ridiculous but the two of them are having the time of their life, fucking juggling or something.

#please give suggestions if you have any ideas 🥲 need something silly!!! I wanna foreshadow in my fic!!!#meh. I can never write one-liners can I? always has to be a goddamn essay. EVEN WHEN IT'S NOT AN ESSAY #this is probably dumb but eh #odysseus #telemachus #odyssey #tagamemnon #Mad rambles #the odyssey #penelope #shot by odysseus #my headcanons

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carmyboobear · 2 months

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carm is a 100% a secret yapper esp coz it takes him longer to express what he wants to say which used to hold him back from talking but oh if he gets a partner who listens to him!!!! He would not stop he’d record voice notes so he doesn’t forget all he wants to say -🧂

OKAYYYY 🧂 you are really cooking something up here. Carmy is a pretty quiet guy but we get these incredible monologues from him at the end of each season. Like he clearly has so much to say, it just takes a lot of pressure and effort to get there.

But all things get easier with practice (and a safe space to do it)! I think the euphoria of being vulnerable with his partner will really carry him here. I also think as his partner, you’d rly be able to see his progression into growing more comfortable and talkative. He gets better at being open, figuring out how he feels, and finding the right words. That would be so wonderful to see <3

I think the voice notes you send would have subjects such as:

I figured out the ingredient this meal is missing HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THIS it was so obvious

I miss you I miss you I miss you

I am going to make you this dish tonight and here’s why I think you’ll like it

my stomach hurts. I don’t know why though. I mean I didn’t eat breakfast and I didn’t sleep and I haven’t drank any water and I just smoked a cigarette and—oh.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fx #my asks #carmy character talk #Getting silly with it #I love this idea tho I’d love to incporate it into my long fic

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joyfuladorable · 1 year

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Trenchcoat-wearing time, but make it ✨Fashion✨

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt mikey #my art #if there's one thing the cringe btts ep gave me #it was a Good Outfit Idea for Mikey lol #wanted Mikey to look like one of those dames from a detective novel or like an old-fashioned starlet hiding from the paparazzi #sometimes I think about the outfits they got in btts and laugh lmao #the stealth fits make for Bad Silhouettes #and the sports equipment feels fucking Silly #I'll admit I think the shorts look on Mikey is pretty good #but more for like actual beach outings #ohhh goddd why did we Never get a Beach episode???#oh there's a fic I read with that actually #it's good but it is mostly hurt/comfort lol #anyways imagine an intel mission and Mikey wearing this outfit uwu

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whaliiwatching · 10 months

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How do you think hurt/comfort noirpunk would go?

they deal with blegh days by distracting each other. crafts that require engagement like block print carving or making jewelry or other diy stuff, aimless conversation with the goal of making each other laugh.

bad days mean closing the blinds. less engaging activities like watching movies, sewing, lots of reassuring touch and just.. being there for each other. hobie strikes me as someone who prefers to talk—fuck suppressing your emotions until they rot—so he can air it all out, and it won’t fester inside him. he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s hurting, and loves staying in contact to help ground him. if he goes to make tea, noir will follow him and hold his hand as he goes about it. imo hobie is also more prone to crying; crying feels damn good, and noir’s sweater never minds the tears.

i think noir prefers to work through hurt internally, sitting with the emotion bc yknow, every emotion is part of living and just bc despair/anger/grief hurt doesn’t mean they’re Evil. he gets quiet, sometimes likes to be alone, but more often prefers to curl up with hobie, listening to him murmur reassurances (breathe, one step at a time, i will always be here, i love you), and stay like that until the world feels manageable again. he doesn’t cry often, but his voice does break, and he hides his face. usually in hobie’s hair or the crook of his neck. it helps remind him he’s not alone anymore.

#spider man: across the spiderverse #spider punk #spider noir #hobie brown #noirpunk #i am a firm advocate of wallowing. that shit helps #mentioned this before but i believe they’re both physically affectionate #so like. CONSTANT hugging #mh im not good at succinct hc writing. this would sound better as a fic #thanks for the interest anon!!!! im glad people like to hear my silly little ideas <3

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irondad-defensesquad · 1 month

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“I had a bad dream.”

“What was it about?”

Tony expects something awful, something tragic and absurd like all dreams are.

“... you were mean,” Peter replies simply.

The boy looks really sad.

“Aww, bud.” Tony opens his arms for the kid, who nestles himself there. “It’s alright, that meanie me won’t hurt you again.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark…”

This would be funny if Peter weren’t actually crying. Tony wonders if the dream was worse than he imagines. He decides not to ask for now.

“You want some cocoa?” He suggests.

“Mmm… in five minutes.”

Tony grins. “Okay.”

The five minutes kind of grow longer, but Tony admits this is nice and he doesn’t want it to end, either.

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #a silly idea i had a while back #inspired by a panel(?) from h/eartstopper #drabble #anti starker

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surelysilly · 2 months

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sock puppet storyboard 80% completed and submitted, more nonsense at 11

“Wanna hug it out?” the kid offers, opening up his disarmingly skinny, toothpick arms. At Jason's guarded look, he adds unsurely, “... No homo?”

#silly phonetic #litu au #dpxdc #dp x dc #now this bit... is proably 100k words away... by the end of this if i dont have nearly 300k written i will be surprised #ive never written so much for one idea before it's amazing to me #*kicks my other old WIPs under the carpet* haha yeah #this whole series is just period fics for the early and late 2000s #don't TOUCH me i dont miss the bush adminnistration #silly snips

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radaverse · 2 months

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While watching SJ I noticed something totally hard to notice

JACK IS EXTREMELY LONELY

HE HAS LIKE 1 ACTUAL CLOSE FRIEND (Scotsman) AND BRO MAKES LIKE 4 APPEARANCES IN THE WHOLE SHOW 😭

So I said NUH UH and threw a child at him

what do you think about that

Samurai Jack: Paws of Magic AU

AU on the works!

Synopsis: Jack shelters an abandoned magic child. Now he has to face a task harder than most of his battles as a warrior: being a father.

Here is the child! Mai the tiny chinchilla warrior.

And references!

Now Jack is not so lonely 💖

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tennessoui · 3 months

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wip wednesday but make it a short fic i wanna finish and post tonight

for fun you know (stressed) (based on this tumblr au)

“Excuse me, sir,” a man says, voice coming from beside his shoulder. Anakin keeps his eyes closed pointedly. If he just stays very quiet and very still, then maybe the man will go away.

It doesn’t seem to work because a moment later, the man continues as if Anakin has given him any sort of indication that that’s an option. “Your shoes are untied.”

Oh.

This again.

Anakin’s wrist, where the same words are written on his skin in dark blue soul ink, burns the way it always does when he hears that sentence.

He can never tell if the ache is real or psychosomatic, if the lurch in his heart is a normal response to a half-connection—-a moment where someone speaks your words and you haven’t yet replied to either complete the match or prove it to be a coincidence—or if it’s just because Anakin’s a die-hard romantic and he always has been.

But today—today has been such a shit day. Today has been just such a shit day and he has no patience left for any well-meaning stranger, any lurches of his heart. He should have tied his damn shoes just to avoid this whole mess of an unwanted social interaction, but after nineteen years of having his laces untied, he’d just forgotten all about them as he closed up shop.

And now, this.

When he opens his eyes and turns his head to face the stranger, he doesn’t actually think he’ll say anything but a very terse, thank you. Or I know.

And then he sees the other man, an older guy with a well-groomed, perfectly trimmed beard, holding a jaunty umbrella that’s keeping the rain off of an impeccable looking fucking pea-coat in one hand and a dog’s leash in the other. The corgi at the end of the leash has on a fucking yellow raincoat, same shade as the umbrella, and when Anakin looks back at his face, the man raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly having just given him the same sort of once-over he’s given the man and been struck deeply unimpressed.

“Mind your own fucking business, you fucking asshole,” Anakin snarls, stuffing his hands in his pockets and swinging back around to glare out at the busy street. The cars still have not slowed, the crosswalk light staying a faithful red.

The man beside him is silent for a moment, two. He’s probably never had anyone speak to him like that in his entire life, Anakin thinks derisively. Fucking uppercrust accent. Fucker puts a dog in a raincoat, he should be called an asshole more often, he’s obviously a fucking dick—

“Well, that’s no way to speak to a stranger,” the man says primly, and Anakin’s body feels electric because he’s had a shit day and he’s not about to stand here on this cold, dirty street corner and be lectured by a man who puts raincoats on his dog.

He whips his head around, mouth already pulled back in an animalistic snarl, and the man pulls his hand out of his coat pocket and shakes the sleeves back. Where a normal rich snob may have a heavy watch, this man’s wrist is empty—save for the tail end of the word asshole.

“Or to your soulmate,” the man adds.

#wip wednesday #obikin #i made it set the day before valentines so now its like my valentines fic #so i gotta post it today lol #silly soulmates <3 #also i just love the idea of modern obi-wan with a little corgi in a raincoat #walking away from rude soaking wet cat anakin #corgi's butt is in the air obi-wan's nose is in the air etc etc

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five-and-dimes · 1 year

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Safe in the Palm of Your Hand

Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares, Dream of the Endless.

Lord Shaper.

For Dream, his body is not always a fixed thing. He would even go so far as to say that most of the time it is not a fixed thing. He is sand, so many countless pieces shifting under the lightest winds and the softest touches. His form changes based on how others see him, on how he sees himself, on how those two expectations interact, on whether one is stronger than the other or if a reasonable middle can be found.

Sometimes, though, he is sand in an hourglass (impenetrable glass, no wind, no air, no gentle touch to guide his form, motionless, frozen in his helplessness) and he doesn’t feel solid, he feels fragile. Breakable. Like the same soft touch and gentle wind will shatter him. In those moments, his expectations of himself will always outweigh anybody else’s.

And it is such today. His status as an Endless does not protect him from his own nightmares, not when they are his own memories, and on this day his body feels wrong. He does not feel like an Endless. He does not feel like a king, or a lord, or a person. Even months after escaping the Burgess Mansion, after regaining his power and repairing his realm, even now, he finds himself feeling… small. His form shudders and shivers and he feels weak, he feels like a vermin to be caught, a prey to be hunted and devoured, he feels dirty, unwanted, unloved, unsafe, small, small, small-

There is a mouse in Hob’s apartment.

He almost didn’t see it, was only alerted to something being amiss by the soft, frightened squeak when he opened his front door. Turning his head, he caught just a glimpse of a small shadow darting behind the old armchair in the corner. Closing the door behind him, Hob hums in surprise. Living above a pub, he’s never dealt with mice or other creatures in his home, most being more attracted to the kitchen and trash cans on the first floor before stumbling into the catch-and-release traps set around the property.

Sighing, he lets his bag fall from his shoulder onto the floor, resigned to his new task for the night. He can finish grading in the morning, once he’s dealt with his unexpected guest. Over the centuries he’s managed to overcome the instinctual disgust and fear at the sight of rodents, but that doesn’t mean he wants one running around his apartment. For a moment, he considers going back downstairs to get one of the traps from the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to give the small creature a chance to hide deeper in the apartment. Besides, he’s wily- he’s certain he can herd the mouse into a box and get it outside himself no problem.

There is a box next to the coffee table in the center of the room, full of papers and documents he’s been procrastinating on organizing, and he casually dumps the contents onto the floor as he approaches the armchair. He keeps his footsteps soft and slow, hoping not to spook the mouse into bolting. So far though, Hob hasn’t seen it since it darted into the corner. Kneeling carefully, he positions the box on its side in front of him, reaching out to move the chair to one side in an attempt to give the mouse only one direction to run.

The mouse doesn’t run.

Hob can’t help but furrow his brows sadly once he’s able to see it, huddled as far in the corner as it can get. For a moment he feels his heart clench in a way he doesn’t fully understand, something more than just general compassion for a small creature, and then he gasps as he realizes what he is looking at.

Two bright points of light emit from the mouse’s eyes.

“...Dream?” The name is less than a whisper on Hob’s breath.

He doesn’t receive an answer, but he doesn’t need one.

Since the stranger's delayed return, he and Hob had seen each other several times, a surprising change in their relationship that Hob welcomed with open arms. After so many years, Hob was finally given answers to some of his countless questions, including a name, and a summary of what exactly his friend is. Dream had even been generous enough to visit Hob in his dreams once, and Hob still gets flutters in his stomach when he thinks of the bright stars of Dream's eyes.

The box is quickly tossed aside and he crouches down farther. Dream had explained to him during one of their recent meetings that he was able to shapeshift (his explanation was far more detailed and complicated than that, but shapeshifting was the closest Hob's human mind could get to understanding) and his heart cracks in his chest as he takes in the sight of his friend in a form he has never seen before; has never even imagined in relation to the Endless being.

Pitch black fur contrasts the bright white of his eyes, but the fur looks matted and thin, tiny ribs peeking under the skin, and he doesn’t know if mice can cry, but the fur looks wet and clumped around the eyes. A long thin tail is sickly pale, and Hob can see him trembling even through the rapid rise and fall of the tiny chest.

Dream is always so strong and untouchable in Hob’s mind, it’s jarring to see him so small and clearly frightened. He doesn’t know what happened- why Dream is in this form, why he’s here, but Hob doesn’t think there’s a force on Earth or off it that could stop him from reaching out to comfort.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he keeps his voice soft and gentle, afraid of frightening him further. Afraid of hurting the small, fragile ears. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re alright,” slowly, so slowly, Hob cups his hands and lowers them to the ground before his friend, “you’re safe here, can you come out? I just want to help.”

Still no response, unless you count Hob’s heart breaking more each moment he watches the mouse shake and shiver in the corner. Part of him wonders if he should leave Dream alone, but it feels too cruel, and Hob has always been one to trust his instincts when it comes to matters of the heart. And so, taking a deep, steadying breath, he cautiously moves to gently scoop the mouse into his palms.

It hurts more than he expected to actually feel tiny trembling paws against his skin, but Dream doesn’t run. In fact, he turns jerkily and tucks his little face against Hob’s fingers, curling into a ball as if trying to hide. He lets out a soft shushing sound, bringing his hands to his chest, cradling the mouse against his chest and making a shelter with his hands.

Dream isn't sure how he got here either.

He had been feeling off kilter for days now, the weight that lived in his chest feeling more unbearable than usual. More and more he found his surroundings reacting to him; walls closing in and curving, clothes growing thinner and thinner, air becoming frigid and still. His lungs felt tight, desperate for breath he didn't need, and then he caught his reflection and the glass shattered in response and he heard someone yell, maybe worried, maybe angry, angry, angry, and then he was gone.

When he lands, he knows he's in a new form, but he can't focus on it, too scared in a primal way he can't identify. All he wants is to hide, it's all his mind can hold on to, so when he hears a door open he runs. If he can just stay hidden, if he just avoids capture, maybe he'll be able to pull himself together. But when he is found, his terror and sorrow are so great he freezes. He thinks he recognizes the man in front of him, even if he looks different being so much larger than him, but it doesn't matter. It doesn’t ease his fear, his grief, his hopelessness. Dirty, unwanted, unloved, unsafe.

Dream feels small. Dream is small. So small and easy to hurt. He thinks maybe he always has been.

But…

But the hands don't crush him. He is lifted slowly and then he finds himself… held. Not held down, not trapped, not caged. Even as one hand folds above him, there is no tension, and Dream feels certain he could escape if he wished too.

He does not wish to.

Hob's hands are warm, so warm, and soft, and nothing like the cold hard glass of his memories. Dream finds himself curling up as he is cradled against his chest, soft fabric covering a strong chest that doesn't scare him as much as it did a minute ago. Cupped against him like this, he feels ensconced in a gentle cave, the shadows beneath his hands a welcome peace against the thought of a hundred years of harsh light keeping him on display.

Slowly, his trembling body stills, curling up tighter and soaking in the warmth.

"There you are," Hob coos, sitting on the couch, ever careful of his precious cargo. It is a great honor, he thinks, to hold an Endless in the palm of your hands. To be tasked with protecting something so valuable. Cautiously, he lays down, smiling as he sees the mouse curl deeper into his sweater, resting right over his heart. Hob keeps one hand cradling him, and brings the other up to pillow his own head against the arm of the couch. "Sorry if I scared you earlier," he keeps his voice low, "wasn't expecting company. But I meant it when I said you're always welcome. I'm glad you came to me."

Hesitantly, he moves one thumb to carefully stroke the matted black fur of Dream's back. It almost looks like the mouse sighs, relaxing even further, and Hob grins.

Continuing his gentle petting, Hob does what he does best.

He talks.

He tells the little dream mouse about the annoying staff meeting he had, and his favorite and least favorite coworkers, and one of his friends who wanted Hob to start a karaoke night at the New Inn, and how he thinks in his next life he wants to buy a fixer-upper and do as much as he can with his own hands. He tells Dream the little mundane things that have made Hob think of him, and how he wants Dream to get a phone but he thinks his head would explode if Dream ever sent an emoji.

He talks, and the mouse relaxes more and more, no longer curled desperately tight, but burrowing comfortably into him, and Dream thinks that maybe being small isn't as scary anymore if it means he can feel Hob's heartbeat drum against his entire body.

Eventually, Hob's hand goes limp above him, draped over Dream's form like a weighted blanket, as Hob talks himself to sleep.

Dream is still small. Still fragile. But he is surrounded by Hob Gadling, by his warmth and his compassion and his love, and he realizes that all he wanted was to feel safe, and Hob managed to give him that and so much more.

When Hob awakes, it is to the sun shining through his living room window and Dream, his familiar, gangly, human-shaped Dream, laying across him with his head on his chest. Hob's hand is resting on his wild black hair, as gentle with him now as he was the night before.

"Hi," Hob's voice cracks lightly as he wakes, but his grin is wide and bright when Dream turns to look at him.

"Hello."

They'll talk about it, later, after Hob has stretched the kinks out of his neck and has used his puppy eyes to convince Dream to eat some breakfast. Later, Hob will hold his hand and let Dream tell him fragmented details of where he's been this past century, of what was done to him. He'll stroke Dream's back when he seems to shrink, stuttering and stumbling over words about how who he wants to be and who he's supposed to be and who he's been turned into all cut into who he is like broken glass. Dream will speak a lot about broken glass. Dream will speak a lot about being broken. Later, Hob will hold him and tell him that being hurt is not the same as being broken.

Later.

For now, Hob just smiles and gathers Dream in his arms, letting him rest his head back down to listen to his immortal heartbeat, happy for the heavy weight against his chest.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dreamling fic #dreamling #hob gadling #my writing #pre-dreamling #I guess lol #first Sandman fic be gentle with me #probably a silly idea but I couldn't get it out of my head #you've heard of meowpheus #not get ready for #mousepheus #yes I will be drawing sad mouse Dream being cuddled by Hob eventually

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awkwardlyflustered · 24 days

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Best Babysitter Ever

A/N: I have been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, I just started it over for like the 5th time. I love the BAU so goddamn much, and I specifically love Reid (he’s just a lil guy) so y’all better get so ready for so much lee Reid in the upcoming weeks. For now though, Reid and Hotch interacting has my entire soul and being so here’s a quick little story for the two of them.

“Hotch, I promise you everything will be okay, I read five parenting books on the way here just to prepare.”

“I know, I trust you’re gonna be fine, you’ve just never babysat by yourself before, and JJ was supposed to come over and help…” Hotch trailed off, unable to keep the overprotective dad side from surfacing.

“We’ll be fine! I’m great with kids,” Reid continued to argue, “We’ll have so much fun, isn’t that right Jack?” Both men turned their eyes over to the small six year old playing with his trucks in the corner. Jack agreed enthusiastically and ran over to hug Spencer’s leg.

“Alright, I’m sure you guys will be fine,” Hotch finally relented. “Reid, call me if you need anything at all, and Jack, be good for Spencer” Spencer gave a salute towards his boss as Jack ran to hug his dad goodbye.

A few hours later, Hotch walked back into his house and was immediately greeted by the loud screams of laughter from Jack. Smiling, he made his way towards the two, not saying anything.

“SPEHEHENCEHEHER!” Jack squealed as Reid’s fingers scribbled across his belly.

“Spencer? Who’s Spencer, I’m the tickle monster!” The curly haired boy announced, scooping up the small kid’s wrists in one hand, and drilling into his underarms with the other. Jack kicked out and tried to squirm away from the intruding hands, finally noticing his dad standing over the two of them.

“DAHAHAHAHD HEHEHEHELP!!”

“You can scream all you want, no one can save you from the tickle monster!” Reid called out with a grin taking over his face as he turned to Hotch as a greeting.

“You heard him Jack, I can’t save you, there’s nothing I can do.” Hotch had a soft grin taking over his face as well, though not quite as smug as Spencer’s.

“PLEHEHEASE,” Jack whined out, obviously enjoying himself.

“Hmm alright fine, I’ll do my best but no promises.” Hotch threw his coat that he had just taken off onto the couch and crouched down by the two of them. “Let’s see here…” he muttered out, taking a hold of Jack’s arms and pretending to pull as hard as he could.

“You’re no match for my incredible strength!” Spencer continued in character, vibrating his fingers into Jack’s ribs causing a whole new round of laughter.

“Hmm I have an idea,” Hotch thought aloud as he stalked towards Spencer.

“You’ll never beat me! Jack will be mine forever,” the so-called tickle monster called out yet again, too busy with his charade to pay any attention to the older man getting closer and closer to him. Without warning, Hotch practically tackled Spencer and started digging into his ribs. Spencer squealed and kicked his feet, completely caught

off guard by the attack. Jack quickly stood up from his position on the floor cheering and encouraging the attack.

“Well well well, looks like the tickle monster is ticklish.”

“Nohohoho” Reid giggled out, weakly swatting at the offending hands currently wracking his nerves. Hotch grabbed Spencer arms and held them above his head, waiting while Reid panted beneath him.

“Hey Jack, come here,” the father beckoned his son over, and started pointing along Reid’s torso. “You know if you poke him right here he makes a really silly noise.” Jack, excited he got to play too began poking his little fingers along Spencer’s tummy. With every poke Spencer gave a hiccupy squeal, that quickly advanced into hiccupy giggles when Hotch’s fingers found their way to his upper ribs.

“Wahahahait guhuhuys,” he pleaded, being careful with his squirming to not hurt Jack.

“This is only fair after you tickled Jack for so long, what do you think buddy?”

“Yeah! You did this to me, you deserve it!” Reid just squeezed his eyes shut, threw his head back, and gave into the ticklish sensations.

The Hotchner duo continued their attack for a few more minutes, making sure to get thorough revenge on the tickle monster before letting him up. Spencer sat up panting, with slight tears in the corners of his eyes.

“The tickle monster isn’t gonna forget this, you better watch out,” he teased Jack, reaching out to pinch his side.

“My dad will rescue me every time!” Jack replied indignantly, clinging to his dad’s leg.

“I absolutely will,” Hotch reassured, ruffling his son’s hair, “But until you need more rescuing, it looks like it’s time for bed. Go start getting ready.” With that, Jack starting running off to get ready for bed, but quickly back tracked to give a crashing hug to Reid.

“Goodnight Spencer, thank you for playing with me.”

“Of course kid,” Reid replied, hugging Jack tightly. “I had fun playing with you.”

“Are you gonna come back tomorrow?” Hotch interrupted the interaction before Reid could be put on the spot.

“No buddy, not tomorrow, but you’ll see Spencer again soon.” Jack just nodded and finally left the two to begin getting ready for bed. Spencer stood up from the floor to stand next to Hotch.

“So I take it the babysitting went well?” Hotch asked with a slight smirk. Spencer nodded happily.

“Yeah, Jack is great. We had a lot of fun together.”

“I could see that. Do you maybe want to come back next week to babysit some more?” Spencer nodded again, much more enthusiastically. “And I take it the tickle monster will be making another appearance?” Spencer blushed out to his ears at the mention of the silly character.

“Maybe he will.”

“Well then it looks like I’ll have some more rescuing to do, won’t I?” Reid just smiled and looked down at the ground, too sheepish to continue meeting Hotch’s eye. Hotch smiled warmly, remembering just how young Reid actually is despite his age. He quickly pulled Reid in for a hug.

“Thank you again Spencer.”

“You’re welcome, it was nice getting to feel like an older brother for a little while.” Spencer’s eyes widened and he pulled away from the hug as he realized what he just said. “Not like that I just meant-”

“You’re the best big brother Jack could ask for,” Hotch assured the genius, clapping him on the shoulder. Spencer smiled an almost cheshire grin as the pink tint returned once again to his cheeks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he called out, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Yep, and I can’t wait to see the rest of the team and inform them of what a great babysitter the tickle monster is,” Hotch teased, a smirk taking over his features. Reid froze, his hand on the doorknob.

“Hotch you can tell anyone and everyone you want, but don’t tell Morgan I’m ticklish, he’ll never let me live it down.”

“I don’t know, I think Morgan would really like to know…”

“Hotch!”

“Alright alright, I’ll keep it to myself, for now anyways.” Spencer breathed a quick sigh of relief and waved goodbye before leaving the house.

Hotch smiled fondly, and pulled out his phone to text Derek.

Tomorrow morning you should ask Reid how babysitting went. He has a really funny secret to tell you

“Technically, I’m not gonna tell him anything,” Hotch muttered to himself, smiling. “Plus what fun is having this information if I’m just gonna keep it to myself?” With that, he walked towards Jack’s room ready to tuck him into bed. His heart was full between his son and his work family, he couldn’t be any happier.

#Criminal Minds #Lee!reid #Ler!Hotch #Spencer Reid #Aaron Hotchner #tickle fic #criminal mind tickle #criminal mind tickle fic #I'm back baby!#Was this a little cringey? Yeah obviously #But this idea has been stuck in my head for weeks #Also nothing puts Hotch in a playful #silly mood like being around Jack #As soon as he's around Jack the big scary BAU leader disappears #Also you cannot tell me that stirring up shit between reid and morgan is his favorite thing ever #Those two are his children #i take no criticism

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