𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : spencer was always in control, until you. but when you walk away, he realises it might be too late to learn how to love you right.
spencer reid has a history of being in control.
of himself. of his emotions. of the way he exists in the world : quiet, precise, never asking for too much.
love, real love, has always been a theory to him. a concept. a case study. something he observes in others, like an astronomer watching stars he’d never reach.
and then there was you.
he didn’t know when it started. maybe the first time you called him spence like it was second nature, or when you leaned into his shoulder on the plane, barely awake. maybe when you took a bullet for a civilian without flinching, or when you cried in the elevator after losing a victim, and reached for his hand without thinking to find comfort.
all he knew was that one day, you’d become part of his routine and turned it all upside down. his rhythm. his sense of self.
and that scared the hell out of him.
so, he did what he always did. he kept it safe. kept you close, but not close enough. he memorized everything about you from a distance : favorite books, late-night snack choices, the exact cadence of your laugh, while never saying a word about the way his chest ached when you touched his arm.
until you walked away.
and now you weren’t beside him. and it was too quiet.
spencer sat alone in the BAU bullpen at 11:47 p.m., his tie loose around his neck and hair messy from running his hands through it too many times today. he felt numb, staring at the text you’d sent him four hours ago.
“i can’t do this anymore. not like this.”
“if you ever decide to let me in—“
“you know where to find me.”
he’d read it twenty two times, precisely. he couldn’t delete it. he couldn’t answer it either.
because the truth was that you were right. you’d waited long enough, more than anyone ever had for him.
spencer had spent so long pretending he didn’t feel what he felt. trying to fit your friendship into neat, manageable boxes. something he could file away like a solved case.
but love doesn’t work like that. you’d told him that once.
and now you were gone.
the elevator dinged behind him. he didn’t turn around. he didn’t have to.
because he knew it was you.
he knew it the way he knew the laws of physics. undeniable. inarguable. your presence had always rearranged the air around you.
“you didn’t answer,” you said quietly, observing him like you’d done too many times before.
your voice cracked something open in him. his hands clenched around his coffee cup. it had gone cold hours ago.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
you gave a small, sad laugh. “that’s the thing, spence. you know everything, but that you never do.”
he finally looked up at you.
you looked tired. beautiful. guarded.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know,” she said. “but you did.”
he nodded once. swallowed hard. “I’m not good at this.”
spencer stood slowly, like his body was remembering how to do it. his chair scraped back.
and then, finally “you know what hurts the most?”
he shook his head.
“that I’m not asking you to be perfect. I never want you to be anything other than exactly who you are. but you won’t even let me see you.”
he flinched.
“you let me get so close,” you said, softer now, like it hurt you to say it. “close enough to feel everything… and then you shut the door. like I’m something dangerous.”
“you’re not dangerous,” he whispered.
“then what am I?” your mouth was set, but your eyes… your eyes looked so goddamn sad. your arms folded across her chest. a defense mechanism. not angry. just tired. like you were bracing for more disappointment.
“real.”
you froze, spencer stepped around the desk slowly, like if he moved too fast, you’d vanish.
“you’re real,” he repeated carefully. “and that terrifies me.”
he didn’t even know how to stand. his arms hung awkwardly by his sides, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for you and couldn’t figure out how.
“all my life, I’ve been able to explain things,” he says. “I can tell you the chemical composition of love. I can list every poem ever written about heartbreak. I can quote studies on attachment and trauma and how people leave.”
there’s a beat, before he continues “I thought if I understood it, I wouldn’t feel it.”
you couldn’t do anything but blink, eyes stinging.
“but then I met you,” he said. “and you’re soft, and stubborn, and brilliant, and so alive. you walked right past every defense I had like they weren’t even there.”
his voice cracks then. he presses a fist to his mouth, trying to ground himself. you just watch him, still frozen. breathing shallow.
“I thought I could keep it under control,” he admits, each word making him feel more stupid. “this… whatever this is. I thought if I could just… hold it in, keep it neat, I wouldn’t lose you. but all I did was push you away.”
silence. he forces himself to meet your eyes, something that usually pains him to do.
“I miss you. all the time. even when you’re right in front of me.”
and you don’t know what to say. so he keeps going like he always does, because if he stops now, he’d never say any of it again.
“I couldn’t tell you how I felt because I didn’t know what it was, it didn’t feel safe. and if it wasn’t safe, it wasn’t real. that’s what I told myself. that’s what I had to believe. because… everyone I’ve ever loved has either died or left me.”
your mouth opened, but he held up a hand, begging. please let me finish.
“but you didn’t leave,” he said, “not until you absolutely had to. you gave me every chance. I wasted them. because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable and still survive.”
and the tears came before he could stop them. silent, stunned things sliding down his cheeks.
you stare at him like you don’t know whether to cry or reach for him or both. he looks so beautiful, so vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to keep hurting you just because I never learned how to let myself be loved.”
that breaks something in you. you take a step forward. and another. he stands before you, arms loose at his sides, face wet, chest heaving… looking every bit the baby deer in headlights you always say he is.
“I’m not asking you not to be afraid, spence…” you finally admit. “I’m asking you to let me be scared with you. that’s all I ever wanted.”
his lips tremble. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“then let’s figure it out.”
you reach up slowly, wiping a stray tear gently with your thumb. he simply leans into your touch like it’s the first time anyone has ever touched him softly and meant it.
“don’t go,” he whispers.
“I’m not trying to leave,” you whisper back. “I’m asking if you’d fight for me.”
he closes his eyes. “I let it happen,” he said. “I let myself fall in love with you. and I’m not going to pretend anymore.”
you step into him fully then, arms sliding around his neck, and Spencer folds like paper, wrapping himself around you like he’d been holding his breath for a year and just now remembered how to exhale.
and in the quiet of that almost-empty room, with his forehead pressed to yours and your hands in his hair, Spencer Reid finally gives up control.
and lets it happen.
a/n : inspired by the gracie abrams song !!first time writing something about my baby, i kinda hate this but a girl has got to start somewhere. give me requests if you’d like, and reblogs/comments are always appreciated <3
cheating, betrayal, heavy angst, emotional turmoil, mental health, darker or heavy themes, thoughts of self-harm, depictions of grief and trauma, drug use, alcohol consumption, abandonment issues, gaslighting, MDNI
Summary:
You were his, but he wasn't yours. Sure, maybe he was in the beginning. But was he really? You knew your place in his world, but tried to make yourself fit anyways. And what hurt the most wasn't that no matter how hard you tried it was never enough--it was that you knew you had to move on.
Word Count: 3038
One-shot || Ongoing Series
You were temporary.
Deep down you know that. Just something to pass the time. But it doesn't make the harsh reminders he gives you any less painful. Sandpaper on freshly skinned knees or salt in a paper cut would have been less painful.
You met Caleb when he first came into the Fleet. He was charismatic and handsome. Called you beautiful like it was your name. Gave you butterflies every time you'd sneak a glance at him and catch him staring at you with that goofy, lopsided grin of his. You'd ask him why he was staring and he would prop a fist under his chin and shrug. Telling you "you're just so pretty it's hard not to stare."
Pretty words are just pretty words now.
But you wear your heart on your sleeve and rose-colored glasses like a fashion statement. Refusing to take them off even when he starts to tell you about his childhood crush. A girl he grew up with that he left behind. And you can't deny that she sounds lovely. Might have been friends if he would ever listen to you and just reach out to her. If nothing but to see how she's doing these days.
Sometimes you catch him muttering her name in his sleep. Even with you sleeping next to him when you spend the night. You shrug it off though. Telling yourself they were so close it's hard not to think about her often. But if that was true—then why can't you shake the feeling that there's something more he isn't telling you?
Even now as you lay in bed, blankets wrapped around you and Caleb beside you, there's that feeling of unease. There's something he's hiding and you can't put your finger on it. His phone goes off on his nightstand. Screen illuminating his room with a ghost of bright light. You know you shouldn't, but there's something in you that says to look at his phone. This is one of the scarce nights off he has. Who could possibly be calling him at this hour?
You drop the phone as soon as you see the contact picture. Everything starting to make sense and all warmth leaving your body. Making you cold and your stomach twist and turn sour. All the plushies he brought home every week—they weren't for you like he said they were. They were hers. The childhood crush he kept talking about. Had always talked about for as long as you've known him. But why was he keeping it a secret that they were reunited? You've always pushed him to reach out and talk to her. Haven't you? Why would he keep this from you?
A knot forms in your stomach as you pick up the phone again. Setting it back on his nightstand before climbing back in bed beside him, and pushing the thought of what the voice message she had left could be saying. Caleb would tell you in his own time. You were sure of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It never left you. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was amiss. A gnawing kind of ache that wouldn't leave you alone. He would tell you sooner rather than later and if he didn't then you would bring it up. So sure that you were just being paranoid and irrational. Didn't even know why you were so startled to see her picture pop up when she called him last night. But the fact that he was keeping it from you was the real problem. You knew the warning signs so well you could spot them before anyone else. Been through enough to know that you needed to leave before you were left. Caleb wasn't giving any of them. So why were you so paranoid?
You spend too much time analyzing his body language in the morning. Watching him as he flips the pancakes over in the frying pan. A man hard at work. If you were still talking to your mother she would be proud. She always wanted you to marry a military man. Your thumb absently runs over the ring on your finger. Contemplating whether or not to say anything. But your mouth opens before you can stop the words from coming out.
"We're okay, right?" Your head tilts when you ask him. Thumb digging into the fire opal centered in the middle of the ring. A lump rising in your throat.
He turns his his over his shoulder just enough to see you sitting at the kitchen island. "Yeah, babe, why wouldn't we be?"
"Just…making sure is all." Your voice trails at the end.
Caleb knows your past. Knows all about every man before him that had done you wrong. How raised voices set you on edge and any change in tone or behavior raised red flags. You were a frightened rabbit now. When he met you, you were so broken from your last relationship that it took two years for you to trust him enough to tell him anything. Constantly in need of reassurance and validation that he wasn't going anywhere. That he meant it when he asked you to marry him a year into the relationship. You worked hard to recognize your triggers and hold your tongue when you're upset. Careful not to say anything that you don't mean or might regret later. You've come a long ways since he first met you.
"Hey," he's standing in front of you on the other side of the island when you look up. Eyes so full of adoration it breaks your heart that you even thought him capable of such a thing. "We're okay. I'm not going anywhere."
Lines that he said so often they should be memorized by now. The corners of your lips turn up in a small smile. "Okay."
He leans forward, placing a tender kiss on your forehead before pulling on his uniform while simultaneously putting a plate of pancakes in front of you. "Got any plans for today, gorgeous?"
"Was thinking of going to see Gideon."
"Don't stay too late, yeah?" Then he's out the door and your stomach drops.
He was doing all the right things. Saying things he normally does. But still no word that he had reached out to—what was her name? It doesn't matter. What did matter was that you could swear that the usual hint of jealousy he usually has when you mention going to see any other man wasn't there this time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gideon's face lights up with a smile the moment he sees you. Sweeping you, literally, off your feet and into a hug as he spins you around. You squeal when he does. Wrapping your arms around his neck and praying he doesn't suddenly drop you in the momentum. Of course, you know that he wouldn't. His training as a fighter pilot had made his stronger than any other man with his build. But it still scared you just the same. When he places you back on your feet, he ruffles your hair like he would a younger sister.
"What a great surprise, Misses Xia." He teases, bopping you on the nose.
Your nose twitches with the touch. "Stop doing that! And stop calling me that. We're not even married yet." Still, you can't deny that your heart skips a beat every time you hear it.
"You're blushing. It's been how long and he still does that to you, huh?"
"Almost three years."
Though it felt more like ten. You've been through more with him than most people in a relationship this long have. He often volunteered to go to your therapy sessions with you. Offering an inside look at how you're doing. Always encouraging. So sweet and understanding. An overwhelming feeling of guilt washes over you. Making you suddenly feel cold. How could you ever doubt him? He's never done anything to prove he was like the guys before him. You had no reason to think he would betray you like that.
Except for not tell you that he was talking to that childhood friend again.
"Hey, what's going on? I hardly ever see you like this. Did you and Caleb get in a fight?" It breaks your heart to hear him so worried. Especially if this turns out to be nothing.
"Did you ever meet his childhood crush?"
Gideon runs a hand through his hair. Or what was left of it since he keeps it so short. Tilting his head in curiosity—or uncertainty. "Caleb never tell you about Emma or something?"
"That's the problem, Gid. He never stops talking about her, but I feel like I know next to nothing about her."
"Well, her name's Emma. She's about two or three years younger than us. He never shut up about her when we were in the DAA together either. They were raised together. Loves plushies. Works for the Hunter's Association now, I think. Has a heart condition. Why the sudden interest?"
"She called him last night. He was asleep."
A surge of anxiety hits you. Hard. Your chest tightens and it feels like the wind was suddenly knocked from your lungs. You're name is similar enough to hers. You also have a heart condition. Did he choose you because he thought he didn't have a chance with her? There were so many what-ifs. Your mind starts racing. All your insecurities beginning to feel overwhelming as you go through all your conversations. Every little interaction. Searching to see if there was something amiss. If he had ever given any indication that something was wrong. But you find there aren't any. The only thing he's ever given you was reassurance that everything was okay. That he loved you.
The walkie talkie connected to his uniform goes off. A man says something eligible only to him. Gideon gives you a soft, reassuring smile before pulling you into a bone crushing hug again. "He loves you, okay? Don't worry about her. I'm sure he got over it. I'll talk to you later—duty calls. Text you to make sure you're doing alright!" And before you can promise him you are—you aren't—he runs off in the direction of the run way. Boarding a plane you can't get on, and flies away.
While he was Caleb's friend first, Gideon was always honest with you. He was there for you in ways no one else had baby when it came to friendship. Offering a sounding board or a shoulder to cry on. Whatever you needed him to be he would be that for you. You two grew close over the years of knowing Caleb. He was like your brother. So, you conclude that he's right and head back to Caleb's.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you get back, there's a note from Caleb laying on the kitchen island for you. A smile pulls the corners of your lips as you read it.
had to go on a mission in the tunnel—i'll be back in a week or so
—love you, caleb(:
Your chest aches as soon as you finish it. Putting it back on the island where he left it. It was stupid, you knew that he had a good reason for not introducing you to her. For not saying anything about reaching out. It was probably recent and he wanted time to reestablish the relationship before bringing you into the picture. It would probably be a shocking for her to learn that he was already engaged in her absence. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was amiss. Like Gideon had said—he had probably gotten over the silly childhood crush.
After grabbing a snack from the kitchen, you go lay on his bed. Ready for a nap as you scroll through your phone. Pictures of the two of you from various trips he'd taken you on during his time off. Voice notes you've saved beginning from the time you first met him to note. Texts sent back and forth. Though you noticed that there were times that his replies were shorter, response time took longer. Anxiety came knocking again. And like every time before—you brush it off. Shoving it down and bottling it to unpack at another time.
There's a Moments post from him. Made maybe ten minutes ago and directly under that is a reply from an Emma Markel. Profile picture set as one of her and Caleb. He's grinning from ear to ear and she's holding his arm. Your stomach churns. Nothing to worry about. They grew up together. Raised together in fact. It was natural for them to be that close. She was probably more like a sister to him than anything else these days.
A reply from Gideon pops up and Caleb responds within seconds. Passive aggressively, but you figure it's stemmed from years of being as close as brothers. Your phone vibrates in your hand.
G: hey, doing alright?
G: not thinking about Emma are you?
You take a minute to consider your answer. Whether or not to spill your guts about the looming anxiety. You decide it was better to be honest with him than to play it off like you're fine. Gideon knows you better than that. He'd call you on it.
You: I mean nothings off or different
You: but we have a similar name…we even look similar. It's hard not to be insecure about that.
G: what can I say? Man has a type. You definitely fit the bill.
You: yeah, guess you're right.
You're nowhere tired now. Mind reeling with too many thoughts and feelings to sort through. You've always been more self aware than anyone should be. Too painfully aware that every emotion feels like your skin is on fire. Overwhelming in the way they consume you so completely. Over time you were able to recognize when you were having an episode. Able to hold your tongue to keep from lashing out. But there was no calming down the emotions that ruled you.
As time ticked down, you go over every piece of information Caleb had possibly told you about her. Every picture he had shown you of the two of them together. Analyzing what it was about her specifically that makes you anxious. Sure, you shared things in common. The same hair and eye color. But that was nothing to pick apart. Then a memory sparks something. There was a time when Caleb let you pick the music in his car and you turned on your favorite band.
"You have the same taste in music."
He had said it so casually it was like nothing but an afterthought. Something he might have forgotten over time until you reminded him. At the time it brought you a sense of pride to know that he was at least familiar with your favorite band. But then that turned into a constant. He'd take you out to eat or order out and you'd ask how he knew your favorite places to eat. They were hers first. It was never that her favorite things were an afterthought. It was that you were.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caleb came back from his mission early. Only by a day or two, but early nonetheless. Your heart skips when you get a text from him when you're out with Gideon. Only to sink the moment you read what it says. He made it home safe but he's spending a few days in Linkon before coming back to Skyhaven officially. There's a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"Hey, he's probably just tying up some loose ends." Gideon places a hand on yours—likely getting a Moments post from Caleb announcing his safe arrival back from the Deepspace Tunnel. "At least he's back in one piece, right?"
You can't help but offer him a small smile. Gideon's been a constant for you as much as Caleb himself. Offering a shoulder to cry on, words of advice and reassurance where he could. And you're grateful for his friendship. You are because if it wasn't for him you would have self sabotaged by now and lost the love of your life as a result. Good things are never meant to last for you and you're more aware of that than anything else. Still, this is another thing you take notice of.
In the hours between sleep, you toss and turn. Going over things you know aren't normal for your relationship. Caleb is less attentive than he used to be. More forgetful of things you've told him. Shrugs you attention away too often. Your love language has always been touch and while you know his is quality time—you can't help but feel unease when he tells you not to rub his back. Explaining it away as he doesn't want you to accidentally feel the difference between his skin and his biotic arm. And you reassure him that it's never bothered you. That you love all of him. Because you do.
He lets your calls go to voicemail more often now. When before he would answer you no matter what he was doing. Instead, he tells you that he's in the middle of a meeting. And no matter how often you memorized the times the Fleet holds meetings—you brush it off and tell him it's okay and to call you when he can. You've brushed off a lot things since being with Caleb. Telling yourself that everything is fine and you're just not used to a healthy relationship. Which is true. You're not. But maybe you shouldn't be gas lighting yourself into thinking you're just being paranoid.
"His birthday is coming up, right?" Gideon pulls you out of your thoughts. "Maybe you can plan something for the two of you?"
"He always wanted to Peter Pan in the sky. Maybe there's a showing during his birthday—I'll have to look around."
Gideon gives you a goofy grin full of pride. "As one might have it—I happen to know the owners. They're friends of my parents. Soooo, I might be able to put in a word to play Peter Pan."
And for the first time since the night you saw her call—you genuinely smile.
i think dennis ends up being a great help to robby in terms of helping him heal his relationship towards the bike he was going to use to kill himself. at the start of his journey, he just couldn't get rid of it- he spent so much time and care and love restoring it, that it seemed obvious it was something he deserved to love again.
robby doesn't even realise it until it's happening, it just seems natural to invite dennis along for a ride, and to buy him his own full helmet and leathers to match robby's, and it seems natural to make sure the seat is safely big enough for two and has all the proper additions.
it feels right to now associate the bike with dennis's arms wrapped round him from behind, head peering past one shoulder as they race down the roads to watch the sunset. the bike starts to mean camping nights under the stars with dennis curled close as the younger points out contellations (something about santos teaching him astrology?), it means fun weekend trips and learning to enjoy life again, to realise he was so much more than the emergency department.
it's gradual. but one day, robby looks at the bike and feels nothing but happiness, pure and undiluted, as well as gratefulness. because here he was, dennis right beside him, hand in hand- at the same national park robby had once planned to end his life in, and now had chosen to propose to dennis at. the bike sat nearby, metal shining in the sun, when dennis burst into tears and accepted.
in the end, the bike was never something robby regretted. while it may have been born from the most painful time in his life, it had ended up being the thing that carried him and his lover to their new life together, a life robby never thought he'd deserve to have.
👙 °❀* 𓍼:･ “i bet all my money that i will / lose to you and hand you my life / here's to hoping you're worth all my time”
summer!roberts!reader x percy jackson
‘the secret of us’ m. list
song: let it happen – gracie abrams
You tell yourself you don’t care.
That’s what you do. It’s always what you do.
Because if you pretend it doesn’t bother you when Percy Jackson walks back into camp like he wasn’t just missing for months, then maybe it won’t.
If you roll your eyes when he smiles at you like you’re the first person he wanted to see, then maybe your heart won’t clench in your chest.
If you look away when he’s bleeding, when he’s bruised, when he laughs and shrugs and pretends he’s fine, then maybe you won’t have to deal with what it means if he’s not.
Because caring? Caring means losing.
And you do not lose.
So when Percy shows up at the docks tonight—silent, hesitant, waiting for you to acknowledge him—you do what you always do.
You pretend it doesn’t matter.
You don’t turn around. You don’t say hi. You just keep looking out at the lake, arms crossed, nails perfect, perfume settled on your skin like armor.
But he doesn’t leave.
Of course he doesn’t.
Because it’s Percy.
And Percy never leaves first.
He finally sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the solid weight of his presence.
It should be annoying.
It should make you roll your eyes and push him away.
It should remind you why you never let yourself get too close.
Instead, it makes your stomach flip.
Gods, you hate him for that.
“You’re mad at me,” Percy says. It’s not a question.
You scoff, staring ahead. “Not everything is about you.”
“Yeah,” he says, voice steady. “But this is.”
You inhale sharply. Because of course he knows.
Of course he can see right through you. He always does.
You should lie. Tell him you don’t care. Tell him he can do whatever he wants, and it doesn’t affect you. That he can come and go, and you’ll be just fine.
But you’re tired.
Tired of pretending, tired of acting like his absence doesn’t make you feel like you’re waiting for something that might never come back.
So you don’t lie.
Instead, you say, “You always leave.”
Percy goes quiet.
The lake is calm, the stars reflecting off the water, the night air cool against your skin. You could pretend you’re not waiting for him to say something.
But you are.
Finally, softly—“I always come back.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Until one day, you don’t.”
Percy flinches at that. Like he hates that you thought it, but he can’t promise you’re wrong.
You keep your gaze trained ahead, trying to ignore the way your throat feels too tight.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” Percy murmurs.
You close your eyes. Because neither do you. Not really.
But what’s the alternative? You care about him, and he leaves, and you’re stuck here, waiting, always waiting.
Except—he always comes back. Doesn’t he?
You exhale, slow. And then, before you can talk yourself out of it, before you can remind yourself of all the reasons you should keep pretending.
You lean into him. Just a little. Just enough. Percy goes still. And then, slowly, his arm wraps around you.
It’s warm. It’s steady. It’s real. And when he exhales—relieved, steady, sure— You finally let it happen.
