Heads up! This account will no longer be my main blog. I'm moving to a new one, where I'll be posting my future works, and I'll be using this one as a sideblog.
This decision is purely for aesthetic reasons (lol)âI think this blog is getting little a bit messy and reorganization feels daunting. Iâm too lazy for that!
But donât worry! I won't be deleting or reposting current content here. They've achieved some milestones I'm incredibly proud of because before this blog, i haven't written for quite some time until last year, and frankly, reposting sounds like a chore. My past works will remain available for your reading pleasure (and rereading!).
If you'd like to keep up with my writing (and my takes on Criminal Minds, Supernatural, and other shows!), feel free to hit me up on my inbox âĄÌ
My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.
Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. đ
If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. â€đ
Hi,
I hope you're doing well.
I'm writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help. My family is in a very danger situation due to the ongoing war, and I've launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them.
Could you please reblog my campaign post from my profile? Each share could be a lifeline for my family. đ Feel free to share it in any other social media platform if you would like.
Our campaign has been verified âïž by operation olive branch, and is entry number 26 on their spreadsheet. Also with âïž Project watermelon,line 249/(212) on their spreadsheet.
From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you in advance for all of your support and kindness.
summary: âyou know,â dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "you always look so cute trying to deny we're not together." you jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. âwhat?â
genre: fluff
word count: 0.5k
author's notes: wrote a silly little drabble about how i see dean hard launching his relationship! the man is the biggest blabbermouth & he'd definitely be the first to announce that he's dating the love of his life to the most important person in his life (aside from you, of course), his brother. so, sit tight! i hope you'll smile from the the tooth-rotting fluff <3
THE IMPALA HUMMED WITH THE AFTEREFFECTS OF THE HUNT, THE AIR THICK WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD AND THE FAINT, ACRID SCENT OF BURNT BONES. Dean slumped in the driver's seat, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped. You sat beside him, your hands trembling despite the adrenaline fade. A thin film of sweat clung to your skin, and your heart pounded like a trapped animal. In the backseat, Sam tried to ignore the charged atmosphere, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the darkening road.
Heâd suspected for a while. The knowing glances, the easy touches, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke â it was like an open secret, obvious to everyone but them. He'd tried to voice his suspicions, but theyâd always laughed it off, their denials as practiced as their hunting rituals.
âYou know,â Dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "You always look so cute trying to deny we're not together."
You jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. âWhat?â
âYou heard me, sweetheart.â A lazy grin spread across Deanâs face. His green eyes, usually sharp and focused, held a softer glow. "You look adorable when you're all red-faced and in denial that we're together in front of Sammy."
A blush warmed your cheeks, and you could feel the heat rising in your neck. âShut up, Dean!â You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked, betraying the giddiness within.
There's nothing more than you want aside from screaming at the top of your lungs that finally, you and Dean were together.
"And you," cheeks still pink from your boyfriend's teasing, you turned your head towards his younger brother in the backseat. "Sam Winchester, stop smirking. I know you're finding this really funny."
Sam merely raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head at your accusation. "I didn't say anything."
Dean chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. âSee? So cute trying to prove my point.â
Sam couldnât resist a snort. âReally, Dean? Nowâs the time?â
Dean feigned offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. âA guy can appreciate his own relationship, canât he?â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âYou two are impossible.â
Sam grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. âJust admit it, youâre totally into each other.â
They exchanged a look, a silent agreement to ignore him. But the truth was written in their eyes, in the way they moved in sync, the unspoken understanding that hummed between them like buzz.
âCan we please just go?â you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. "I wanna shower. I stink of graveyard dirt and sweat."
Dean nodded, his expression softening. He reached for your hand, his touch grounding. âYeah, letâs do that.â
Sam sighed dramatically. âIâll pretend I didnât see anything.â
As the Impala ate up the road, the tension eased. With Dean's hand in yours, a promise of safety and companionship, you drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle and the gentle sway lulling you into a state of quiet.
picture injured!dean and sam is tending to his wounds
The motel bathroom looked like the aftermath of a battlefront with all the piles of discarded bandages and antiseptic wipes. Dean winced as Sam poked at a gash on his shoulder, the harsh light glinting off the needle.
"You're gonna need stitches for this one," Sam declared, his voice laced with concern.
"Yeah, yeah, Doc," Dean muttered, more to himself than Sam. He caught a glimpse of his reflectionâa mess of worry lines and exhaustion. "Just hurry up, will ya? I'm whacked and I wanna go to sleep, but I gotta find a decent burger joint."
Sam snorted, unsurprised at how Dean was trying to underestimate his injuries. He finished cleaning the wound and reached for the suture kit. "Alright, alright, Buffy. Just don't blame me when you scare off every waitress with these war wounds."
A hint of a smile crossed Dean's face. He braced himself, but instead of the needle, he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Sam was leaning in, his lips brushing against the corner of Dean's mouth. It was a fleeting kiss, a silent "thank you" for all the battles they fought, side-by-side.
summary: what surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on spencer's shoulderâa stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. and not only that, spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. or, you fall asleep on spencer's shoulder and the rest of the team sees.
genre: fluff
word count: 1.3k
author's notes: back with another spencer fluff! i miss seeing my baby on my screen. i had to rewatch old episodes right after seeing the new ones because i miss him so bad. anyhow, enjoy reading this one.
RAIN LASHED AGAINST THE WINDSHIELD, BLURRING THE NEON GLOW OF THE CITY LIGHTS INTO A SMEAR. Inside the car, the air was filled with the silence of exhaustion. The BAU just narrowly captured another unsubâfortunately, just in time to save the most recent victim. Hotch, who was driving, glued his eyes to the rearview mirror. He had caught a glimpse of the scene unfolding behind him.
Spencer, usually busy poring through whatever piece of literature on his legs, was nestled into the corner, his head resting against the cool glass of the window. While, you, the newest member of the team, sat beside the male, curled up in the backseat, and brow furrowed in light sleep. Hotch recalled earlier how you were fighting back a yawn and wasn't surprised that he had found you passed out cold.
What surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on Spencer's shoulderâa stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. And not only that, Spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. In fact, a faint blush had dusted his cheeks, and his own eyes, momentarily fluttering open, held a hint of something akin to fondness.
Hotch watched, a small smile tugging at his lips. You and Spencer had been partnered for a particularly grueling caseâa string of arsons with a unique signature. The long hours and emotional toll had clearly taken their toll.
Yet, even in exhaustion, an intimacy has bloomed between the both of you. Spencer, ever the gentleman, hadn't moved a muscle, seemingly content to act as a human pillow. On your part, like magnets, you had unconsciously gravitated towards his warmth, your breathing slowing into a peaceful rhythm.
Beside Hotch, a knowing grin spread across Morgan's face in the passenger seat. He glanced back at you and Spencer through the rearview mirror, catching the tender scene. He stifled a chuckle, it was endearing to see the boy genius to be intimate with someone, knowing that he wasn't known to be keen on physical affection.
With a playful nudge to Hotch's arm, Morgan kept his voice low. "Looks like someone found a comfy pillow, Hotch."
Hotch chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving the rearview mirror. "Seems so, Derek. Seems so."
But Morgan, ever the tease, couldn't resist adding another jab. "Just don't drool on him, kid," he called back in a mock-serious tone, knowing full well you were fast asleep.
Hotch shot him a withering look, but a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He knew Morgan wouldn't disturb the peaceful tableau unfolding in the back. They all needed a moment of rest, a stolen fraction of comfort in the storm.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain. It was then, with a slight bump in the road, that the car dipped, causing Spencer to jostle ever so slightly. His head, as if following the car's movement, dipped as well, and his hair brushed against yours in a soft, unexpected touch.
You stirred in your sleep, a frown momentarily creasing your brow before smoothing out again. Spencer, wide awake now with a jolt of surprised awareness, froze. His hand instinctively reached up to brush the stray strand of hair back from his own face, but his fingers lingered in the air, hovering just above your head.
Heat flooded his cheeks as he realized the intimate position you had found yourselves in. He wanted to apologize, to gently move away, but a strange sense of peace settled over him. You looked so peaceful, nestled against the cool leather, and your brow finally relaxed. The exhaustion of the case seemed etched on your face, a shared burden they both carried.
With a silent sigh, Spencer decided against disturbing your slumber. He leaned his head back against the window, his gaze fixed on the blurry cityscape outside.
The car continued its journey through the city, the gentle sway a lullaby against the harsh symphony of the storm. You drifted deeper into sleep, the weight of Spencer's head on yours a grounding anchor.
As dawn painted the horizon with streaks of pink and orange, the rain finally subsided. Hotch, ever vigilant, announced they were nearing the precinct. Morgan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, nudged Hotch again. "Think they'll wake up before we get there?" he whispered.
Hotch chuckled. "Knowing them, they'll probably jolt awake the second we stop. But for now, let them sleep."
The car pulled into the familiar parking lot of the BAU headquarters. Hotch gently nudged the brakes, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene in the back.
A trace of sunlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the interior of the car. It danced across your face, warming your cheek and causing your eyelids to flutter open. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before the events of the previous night flooded back.
A blush crept up your neck as you realized your head was resting on Spencer's shoulder. You were about to mumble an apology when you noticed his head turned towards the window, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.
Gathering your courage, you cleared your throat softly. "Spencer?"
He turned his head slightly, a surprised look flickering across his features before a gentle smile softened his expression. "Good morning."
You felt a tug in your chest, a mixture of awkwardness and something else, something warmer and more exhilarating. The sound of the car door opening startled both of you. Spencer's eyes flew open, a look of surprise mirroring yours.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
You felt a renewed warmth bloom in your cheeks. "I⊠I think so," you stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "How about you?"
Before you got the chance to hear what Spencer had to say, Morgan's voice boomed from behind you. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone slept well."
You scrambled to sit up straight, your face burning. Spencer mirrored your movement, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Uh, good morning, Morgan," you stammered.
"Morning, kids," Morgan chuckled. "Hotch is grabbing coffee. You two coming in, or are you planning on catching some more shut-eye in the parking lot?"
You stole a glance at Spencer, who was gathering his things with a focus that seemed almost deliberate. The memory of his hair brushing against yours sent a shiver down your spine. You weren't sure if it was the exhaustion of the case or something else entirely, but the shared touch felt undeniably intimate.
"We're coming, Morgan," you called out, your voice a little shaky.
As you were about to exit the car, Spencer held the door for you with a shy smile. "Thanks for letting me, uh, borrow your shoulder," he mumbled, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink.
"No worries, Spencer," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "We both needed the rest. And thank you, as well. I used your shoulder first, so I guess it's only fair I let you borrow mine."
Spencer chuckled at this which caused your cheeks to pinken.
"About earlier," Spencer started. "When you asked me how I'm doing? Much better than I expected, considering the circumstances," he admitted with a hint of a chuckle.
The air crackled with unspoken words, a tension that felt both electric and strangely comfortable. You stole a glance at his profile, the way the soft morning light highlighted the planes of his face.
"That's good," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We should probably get going."
Spencer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Right. We have forms to fill up."
Before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Spencer beat you to itâhis hand brushed against yours for a fleeting moment. It sent a jolt through you, a silent echo of the intimacy from the night before.
Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath of crisp morning air. The city stretched out before you bathed in the golden hues of sunrise.
"Ready to face another day?" Morgan uttered loudly ahead of you, his voice laced with amusement.
You turned to face him, sighing at his teasing. You weren't oblivious to the fact that Morgan liked seeing you and Spencer together. "As ready as I'll ever be, Morgan."
picture injured!dean and sam is tending to his wounds
The motel bathroom looked like the aftermath of a battlefront with all the piles of discarded bandages and antiseptic wipes. Dean winced as Sam poked at a gash on his shoulder, the harsh light glinting off the needle.
"You're gonna need stitches for this one," Sam declared, his voice laced with concern.
"Yeah, yeah, Doc," Dean muttered, more to himself than Sam. He caught a glimpse of his reflectionâa mess of worry lines and exhaustion. "Just hurry up, will ya? I'm whacked and I wanna go to sleep, but I gotta find a decent burger joint."
Sam snorted, unsurprised at how Dean was trying to underestimate his injuries. He finished cleaning the wound and reached for the suture kit. "Alright, alright, Buffy. Just don't blame me when you scare off every waitress with these war wounds."
A hint of a smile crossed Dean's face. He braced himself, but instead of the needle, he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Sam was leaning in, his lips brushing against the corner of Dean's mouth. It was a fleeting kiss, a silent "thank you" for all the battles they fought, side-by-side.
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: what surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on spencer's shoulderâa stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. and not only that, spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. or, you fall asleep on spencer's shoulder and the rest of the team sees.
genre: fluff
word count: 1.4k
author's notes: back with another spencer fluff! i miss seeing my baby on my screen. i had to rewatch old episodes right after seeing the new ones because i miss him so bad. anyhow, enjoy reading this one.
RAIN LASHED AGAINST THE WINDSHIELD, BLURRING THE NEON GLOW OF THE CITY LIGHTS INTO A SMEAR. Inside the car, the air was filled with the silence of exhaustion. The BAU just narrowly captured another unsubâfortunately, just in time to save the most recent victim. Hotch, who was driving, glued his eyes to the rearview mirror. He had caught a glimpse of the scene unfolding behind him.
Spencer, usually busy poring through whatever piece of literature on his legs, was nestled into the corner, his head resting against the cool glass of the window. While, you, the newest member of the team, sat beside the male, curled up in the backseat, and brow furrowed in light sleep. Hotch recalled earlier how you were fighting back a yawn and wasn't surprised that he had found you passed out cold.
What surprised the unit chief was that your head, as if drawn by an invisible string, had laid rest on Spencer's shoulderâa stray strand of hair tickling his cheek. And not only that, Spencer didn't seem to mind, not one bit. In fact, a faint blush had dusted his cheeks, and his own eyes, momentarily fluttering open, held a hint of something akin to fondness.
Hotch watched, a small smile tugging at his lips. You and Spencer had been partnered for a particularly grueling caseâa string of arsons with a unique signature. The long hours and emotional toll had clearly taken their toll.
Yet, even in exhaustion, an intimacy has bloomed between the both of you. Spencer, ever the gentleman, hadn't moved a muscle, seemingly content to act as a human pillow. On your part, like magnets, you had unconsciously gravitated towards his warmth, your breathing slowing into a peaceful rhythm.
Beside Hotch, a knowing grin spread across Morgan's face in the passenger seat. He glanced back at you and Spencer through the rearview mirror, catching the tender scene. He stifled a chuckle, it was endearing to see the boy genius to be intimate with someone, knowing that he wasn't known to be keen on physical affection.
With a playful nudge to Hotch's arm, Morgan kept his voice low. "Looks like someone found a comfy pillow, Hotch."
Hotch chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving the rearview mirror. "Seems so, Derek. Seems so."
But Morgan, ever the tease, couldn't resist adding another jab. "Just don't drool on him, kid," he called back in a mock-serious tone, knowing full well you were fast asleep.
Hotch shot him a withering look, but a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He knew Morgan wouldn't disturb the peaceful tableau unfolding in the back. They all needed a moment of rest, a stolen fraction of comfort in the storm.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain. It was then, with a slight bump in the road, that the car dipped, causing Spencer to jostle ever so slightly. His head, as if following the car's movement, dipped as well, and his hair brushed against yours in a soft, unexpected touch.
You stirred in your sleep, a frown momentarily creasing your brow before smoothing out again. Spencer, wide awake now with a jolt of surprised awareness, froze. His hand instinctively reached up to brush the stray strand of hair back from his own face, but his fingers lingered in the air, hovering just above your head.
Heat flooded his cheeks as he realized the intimate position you had found yourselves in. He wanted to apologize, to gently move away, but a strange sense of peace settled over him. You looked so peaceful, nestled against the cool leather, and your brow finally relaxed. The exhaustion of the case seemed etched on your face, a shared burden they both carried.
With a silent sigh, Spencer decided against disturbing your slumber. He leaned his head back against the window, his gaze fixed on the blurry cityscape outside.
The car continued its journey through the city, the gentle sway a lullaby against the harsh symphony of the storm. You drifted deeper into sleep, the weight of Spencer's head on yours a grounding anchor.
As dawn painted the horizon with streaks of pink and orange, the rain finally subsided. Hotch, ever vigilant, announced they were nearing the precinct. Morgan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, nudged Hotch again. "Think they'll wake up before we get there?" he whispered.
Hotch chuckled. "Knowing them, they'll probably jolt awake the second we stop. But for now, let them sleep."
The car pulled into the familiar parking lot of the BAU headquarters. Hotch gently nudged the brakes, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene in the back.
A trace of sunlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the interior of the car. It danced across your face, warming your cheek and causing your eyelids to flutter open. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before the events of the previous night flooded back.
A blush crept up your neck as you realized your head was resting on Spencer's shoulder. You were about to mumble an apology when you noticed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks as well. His eyes were still closed, but a small smile played on his lips.
A blush crept up your neck as you realized your head was resting on Spencer's shoulder. You were about to mumble an apology when you noticed his head turned towards the window, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.
Gathering your courage, you cleared your throat softly. "Spencer?"
He turned his head slightly, a surprised look flickering across his features before a gentle smile softened his expression. "Good morning."
You felt a tug in your chest, a mixture of awkwardness and something else, something warmer and more exhilarating. The sound of the car door opening startled both of you. Spencer's eyes flew open, a look of surprise mirroring yours.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
You felt a renewed warmth bloom in your cheeks. "I⊠I think so," you stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "How about you?"
Before you got the chance to hear what Spencer had to say, Morgan's voice boomed from behind you. "Well, well, well. Looks like someone slept well."
You scrambled to sit up straight, your face burning. Spencer mirrored your movement, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Uh, good morning, Morgan," you stammered.
"Morning, kids," Morgan chuckled. "Hotch is grabbing coffee. You two coming in, or are you planning on catching some more shut-eye in the parking lot?"
You stole a glance at Spencer, who was gathering his things with a focus that seemed almost deliberate. The memory of his hair brushing against yours sent a shiver down your spine. You weren't sure if it was the exhaustion of the case or something else entirely, but the shared touch felt undeniably intimate.
"We're coming, Morgan," you called out, your voice a little shaky.
As you were about to exit the car, Spencer held the door for you with a shy smile. "Thanks for letting me, uh, borrow your shoulder," he mumbled, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink.
"No worries, Spencer," you replied, forcing a casual tone. "We both needed the rest. And thank you, as well. I used your shoulder first, so I guess it's only fair I let you borrow mine."
Spencer chuckled at this which caused your cheeks to pinken.
"About earlier," Spencer started. "When you asked me how I'm doing? Much better than I expected, considering the circumstances," he admitted with a hint of a chuckle.
The air crackled with unspoken words, a tension that felt both electric and strangely comfortable. You stole a glance at his profile, the way the soft morning light highlighted the planes of his face.
"That's good," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We should probably get going."
Spencer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Right. We have forms to fill up."
Before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Spencer beat you to itâhis hand brushed against yours for a fleeting moment. It sent a jolt through you, a silent echo of the intimacy from the night before.
Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath of crisp morning air. The city stretched out before you bathed in the golden hues of sunrise.
"Ready to face another day?" Morgan uttered loudly ahead of you, his voice laced with amusement.
You turned to face him, sighing at his teasing. You weren't oblivious to the fact that Morgan liked seeing you and Spencer together. "As ready as I'll ever be, Morgan."
Fireworks exploded overhead, painting the night sky in color. You shivered, leaning into Mark's welcomed warmth. "Make a wish," he murmured, eyes on the dazzling display. You squeezed your eyes shut, picturing your dream internship, and you whispered your wish, the words catching in your throat.
Mark nudged you. "Done? Wished for world peace, did you?"
You scoffed playfully. "Maybe. Your turn, you goofball."
He grinned, closed his eyes for a beat, then blew out a breath. You watched, anticipation bubbling in your chest. You watched, anticipation thrumming.
"My wish already came true," he said finally.
Confused, you met his gaze. "What do you mean?"
A single firework burst, mirroring the warmth in his eyes. "Spending this night with you," he murmured. A blush crept up your cheeks, warmer than the hot summer night. Maybe your wish has already come true too.
young!sam coping with wanting his dad to pay attention to them but it's just dean and him stuck in a random town where the kids talk about some local legend
Ten-year-old Sam hunched over the dusty library table, nose practically buried in a thick book titled "Mythical Creatures of the Midwest." He scribbled furiously in a worn notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Still don't think this whole 'Demon Goat' thing is a bunch of hooey?" Dean's voice, laced with bored amusement, drifted in from behind him.
Sam slammed the book shut, the sudden noise making Dean jump. "No, Dean! It says here it leaves footprints with a cleft hoof and a bird's claw!"
Dean, who was sprawled lazily on a nearby chair, flipped a page of a tattered comic book with a dismissive snort. "Big whoop. Probably just some oversized possum scaring the locals."
Sam scowled. "Dad takes all these things seriously, Dean. Why can't you?"
"Look, Sammy," Dean said, sitting up a little straighter, "Dad's got the experience. He knows things and he's seen them before, but I bet he'd think we're a bunch of idiots for this. There's no point in getting our hopes up on finding some winged demon goat. I don't even think they're real."
Sam's shoulders slumped. He understood Dean's logic, but something about the legend of the Demon Goat, the mystery of it all, sparked a thrill in him. He longed to be a part of his dad's world, not forgotten in some random town and some random backwoods motel.
"Maybe not," Sam mumbled, more to himself than Dean. "But wouldn't it be cool if there was something out there? This would be my first hunt. Maybe Dad would come back and help usâhelp me."
Dean's playful facade faltered for a moment. He looked at Sam, a flicker of worry crossing his features.
"Yeah, it would," he finally admitted, his voice softer than usual. "But right now, our job is to stick with what Dad's instructed us. We stay here and wait for him to come get us. We're a team, remember?"
Sam met Dean's gaze, a spark of determination replacing the disappointment in his eyes. "Yeah, a team," he echoed, a small smile playing on his lips. He didn't know if they'd ever encounter the Demon Goat, but one thing was clearâthey'd face whatever came their way, together.
"Alright then, Buffy," Dean said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "let's see if this book of yours mentions any weaknesses for giant demon goats."
Sam couldn't help but grin. With renewed enthusiasm, Sam flipped open the book once more, ready to delve into the lore of the Demon Goat, with his brother by his side.
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."
genre: fluff
word count: 1k
author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3
THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASEâTYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU . Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds . Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home . If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reidâthe object of your unspoken affectionsâis an opportunity you wouldn't miss.
For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests . Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual . Now , you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room . You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.
"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.
Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed . A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars . A small smile tugged at your lips.
"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger . " Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."
You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm . There , nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.
"Here's another one," you offered.
He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity . " It's beautiful," he said simply .
"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"
You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact . " A bear?"
A smile played on his lips . " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them . Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."
"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began a fond memory surfacing . " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other , kind of like the Earth and the sun . She was into soulmates, you see, and space."
The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories . You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee . He , in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.
Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently . " What's this from?" you asked gently.
Spencer chuckled . " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed . " I was lost in a book , I ran straight into a doorpost . My mom called me 'Crash' after that."
You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you . You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining . Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability
He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back . " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.
As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words . You ended up curled up on one bed . You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong . He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.
There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted togetherâentangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.
Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft . " Maybe your mom was right, you know."
"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.
His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow . " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly . " There's an old Buddhist saying , I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."
A thoughtful hum escaped your lips . " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.
He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."
A soft blush crept up your neck . You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.
"Plato," you murmured, surprised . " The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"
Spencer's lips curved into a small smile . " True," he admitted . " But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people . Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin ... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning . You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes . " So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"
Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours . " No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence . " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments . The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you . Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night . Curled beside him , Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence , you drifted off to sleep.
A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores . " Good night," he whispered into the darkness.
more thoughts on how young!sam & dean were like when theyâre alone in a motel room while sammy got scared.
itâs raining very hard, the windows are rattling, and with every rattle, sam is trembling, huddling underneath the ratty blanket. deanâs busy cleaning up the mess from dinner, but he notices sam, stealing worried glances over his little brother.
"you alright, sammy?"
"what if it gets in?" sam whispers, fear clinging to his words. âwhat if it gets in and something bad happens before dad gets here?â
dean sighs, putting down the paper bag. "weâre warded, sammy. nothingâs getting in." he knew it wasn't enough. their dad was out hunting, leaving them alone in this storm.
scooting closer, dean ruffles samâs hair. "remember, sammy? we watch each other's backs. nothing badâs gonna happen to usâto youâas long as iâm here, okay?â
sam looks up, deanâs words chasing away the fear. "yeah," he mubmbles, leaning into deanâs side as dean wraps his blanket tighter and pats his head.
its anon from earlier again. theres a big wave of people making wincest as toxic and fucked up as possible (understandable LMAO) and im over here with big wet sopping eyes like
iâm both lmfao theyâre so toxic but theyâre better together đ„č and youâre so right for this bc even tho they fight a lot each one of their hugs every time they reunite just hits !!!! đ
