Angel [spencer reid x reader] ✔

𝟷𝟷.

warnings: mild violence

Spencer's back protests as he sits up on the couch, groggily blinking. It's been three days since Y/n had started staying at Spencer's, and he refuses to let her sleep on the couch. Does he miss his bed? Yes. But a good night's sleep is the least of his problems right now. Plus, they've watched seasons four and five of Game of Thrones together.

He slowly gets off the couch before heading into his bedroom. The bed is empty, his bathroom door shut. The shower's running—she's obviously showering. Spencer's big brain, though sleepy, can deduce that much. He shuffles to his dresser, putting on some deodorant, and he's setting it back down on the dresser when he hears it.

Soft, muffled cries coming from his bathroom. His eyes land on the door and he shuffles closer to it, his brows scrunching. He sets a hand on the bathroom door, the unmistakable sounds of Y/n sniffling filtering through the door, following by muffled gasps as she inhales shakily.

Spencer can't help from feeling angry—how could someone hurt her like that? How does someone do that to a human being? Beat them down until they believe it's their fault; strip them of who they are until they feel...alone. Even if they aren't.

Spencer steps back from the bathroom, chewing on his bottom lip before retreating out of his bedroom. He heads to the kitchen, turning on his Keurig before making two cups of coffee. One for him, one for Y/n. He fixes it just the way she likes, taking a sip of his own coffee He heads back into his room, sitting on the bed and sitting crisscross, Y/n's coffee resting on his bedside table.

After a few moments, Y/n comes out of his bathroom, dressed in a pair of Spencer's sweatpants and a sweater. Her hair is damp, and when Spencer looks at her face, he notices how puffy and bloodshot her eyes look. Her cut is slowly healing on her forehead, the bruise under her eyes lightening a little bit every day. He gives her a soft smile, gesturing to the cup on his bedside table.

"I made you some coffee."

"Thanks," she whispers, walking to the bedside table, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug.

She sits beside Spencer on his bed, leaning up against his headboard. She takes a small sip of her coffee, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her left arm around them. She looks at Spencer, and he takes a sip of his own coffee.

"How do you feel?" He asks softly.

She shrugs, taking another sip of her coffee. "I'm...okay, I guess. Still a bit worried about Owen." She whispers his name, almost like if she says it too loudly, he'll hear her and appear out of thin air.

"I understand," he whispers. "Do you...you need your things from his place, right?"

She nods, taking another sip of her coffee. "I do, but I can't go back there." Her voice is laced with fear, her eyes flicking up to look into Spencer's.