Imagines & Preferences

One-shots | Imagines | Preferences | Headcanons Requests | Mobile Masterlist Requests: Closed | Ships: Closed

[potterandpreferences]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Pairing || Spencer Reid x Ex-f!reader (third person)

Summary || She and Spencer had been broken up for years. She never expected a phone call from Emily to tell her he in prison and wanting to see her. Angst and mentions of cheating.

"Spencer's where?" She dropped heavily into the chair behind her, head snapping up to look directly at Unit Chief SSA Emily Prentiss.

Emily grimaced. "He's in prison, awaiting trial. He's innocent," she hastened to add. "We just need the time to prove it."

That was the last thing she'd expected to hear when the FBI called her to come in to discuss something vaguely relating to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Injury or death, perhaps. Something related to drugs, maybe. Prison?! Not a snowball's chance in hell.

"Why are you telling me this? I haven't seen Spencer in a long time," she asked after a moment. She gratefully took the cup of water Emily offered her, ignoring the shake in her hands as she took a sip. She kept her focus on the drink, mind whirring. There was nothing that she could offer him in bail or legal aid, so why, why after all these years would he get in touch? Especially like this.

If anything, Emily's grimace deepened uncomfortably. "He added you to list of visitors."

"Did he... did he say why?" She asked, glancing up at Emily.

"The request came from his lawyer. I can ask him, if you like? Next time I visit," Emily offered.

She nodded slowly, unsure if she would ever step foot in the prison even if Emily found out his reasoning. There was so much hurt there better left buried.

"If he's asking for me, he's not doing well is he?" She asked, gripping tightly onto the cup and hoping this wouldn't pile onto her conscience.

"No," Emily answered honestly. "Prison is hard enough without a brain like Spencer's, and he's not in protective custody. There's a real chance he could get hurt."

"And he decided now is the time to dig up the past?" She laughed humourlessly. He always was a glutton for punishment.

"Can I ask what happened between you two? I only know what Spencer's shared and it's not a lot." Emily had never been the one Spencer confided in about relationships, and some of the things happened when she was in London. She was admittedly quite curious.

She let out a sigh, leaning back in her seat and staring out the window as old memories surfaced.

10th December, 2005

"I'm fine, just leave it," Spencer snapped. He wasn't fine. His nightmares woke her up as well as himself, but he'd never talk about it.

He'd never shut her out like this before. She wasn't sure how to process it. Was this a glimpse into her future? She didn't want to start a fight so she did as asked and gave him space.

It took a week, but eventually he opened up about the night terrors, that Agent Gideon had pulled him to one side with some advice. The nightmares didn't magically stop straight away, but with time Spencer started getting enough sleep and the tension became a distance memory.

25th February, 2007

She finished putting the last of her belongings in the car. A clean break. She'd donated and sold what she could, minimising the amount she'd had to pack up. Leaving Spencer was a hard choice, but the right one.

A recent case had him hooked on drugs. Oh he denied it at first, but the syringes in the bin partially hidden by tissues gave it away. That was aside from the behavioural changes and gaslighting. She couldn't stay while he tore down and burned everything that they'd built in the last four years.

"You don't know anything about behaviour. I'm the profiler, you're just a check-out girl." That had been the last thing he'd said to you before leaving on another case, when she'd begged him to speak to someone like Hotch or a therapist or an AA leader. Anyone at all. He said no, so she was saying goodbye.

12th April, 2008

"I'm sorry, for everything I said. You were right about me needing help, and I have it now. I've been going to AA meetings. I'm five months sober." He took her hands in his. "I want to give us another chance. I really messed up, I know that, but I want to earn your trust again. I missed you."

It was everything she'd wanted him to say. She'd missed him with every fibre of her being. Almost an entire year of still turning to tell him something first, when his shadow wasn't even there. A phantom limb. She hadn't dated anyone in the time they'd been broken up, no one compared. And he was being so sincere...

"There can't be any more secrets like that, okay?" She said. "Even if you fall off the wagon. I need the truth for this to work."

"Of course. I'll never keep something like that from you again." He crossed his heart with his finger.

16th September, 2012

She didn't know when he went back on his word. There were so many moments that she was suspicious of in hindsight. Little white lies when he said he was okay when he wasn't, the appointments he kept from her, the secret phone calls. The break up was uglier this time, full of bitterness and suspected infidelity. He called her insecure. She called him a coward.

She'd stuck by his side through all the missed dates and anniversary. She defended his lack of proposal despite having been together for nearly a decade to her family all the whilst knowing that he knew she wanted to get married. She'd been his cheerleader when he reached sobriety milestones, his emergency contact at all hours of the day. Despite all of that, he prioritised another woman. She promised herself she'd never go back to him ever again. No more chances. Never.

Emily let out a low whistle. "Well he certainly kept a lot to himself!" She said, surprised at how callously Spencer had treated you. It wasn't her place to comment on Maeve - even she wasn't entirely sure what had happened between her and Spencer, and there was no point pouring salt in the wound.

Resting her elbows on the desk, Emily leaned forward. "Look, I can't make you see Spencer, and it isn't fair he's put you in this position. But have a think about anything you might want to ask him, and I can forward it on. No pressure."

With no small amount of reluctance, she agreed. The meeting ended not long after, with a shake of hands and both with lots to think about. She still hadn't decided what to do, but Emily had given her her phone number so she could mull things over at home.

Later that night, she tossed and turned in bed and was still no closer to answer whilst images of an incarcerated, struggling Spencer tormented her soul.

[potterandpreferences]

Pairing || Spencer Reid x reader (later series Spencer)

Summary || Spencer receives a gift basket from Lila Archer (from season one), and reader gets him to confess to kissing her. No jealousy/angst. Not proof read.

"Who is Lila and why is she sending you a gift basket?" You asked, placing the hamper of goodies on the coffee table. It smelled divine from the variety of sweet treats.

Spencer poked his head out from the bedroom door, curls still dripping water from his shower. "Is it March, already?" His eyes flicked to the calendar in surprise. "Give me a few minutes, I'll be out."

Bemused, you pottered about in the kitchen to make some tea whilst you waited for Spencer to finish getting ready for the day. When a delivery guy had buzzed into the building, this was the last thing you expected.

Spencer came into the living room, accepting the TARDIS mug you offered him with an affectionate grin. He led you to the sofa, settling deep into it without spilling his drink. You sat next to him, back against the arm rest as you faced him fully with poorly concealed curiosity.

"Have you ever heard of Lila Archer? She's an actress, been in a few films."

"Heard of, I think."

"About ten years back she had an issue with a stalker and the BAU were put on the case. I was assigned as her protective detail." A blush rose in his cheeks and your eyebrows raised in surprise. "We solved the case and that was that, but we ended up back in L.A. a couple years after. Through the media coverage she found out we were there, she asked to meet up to thank me - us, thank us - for saving her. Every year since, she sends a basket."

"She sends a basket to everyone on the team, or just you?" You knew the answer before asking, but his silence spoke volumes too. You'd never seen Spencer get so squirmy over someone before. "You kissed her, didn't you?"

Spencer spluttered in surprise, staring at you with wide eyes and looking very much like a deer in headlights. "Ho-how did you..?"

"Spencer, I have never seen you blush so hard," you paused before slyly adding, "is she a good kisser?"

"This feels like a trap," Spencer groaned, regretting ever mentioning Lila. He hid his face in his free hand. You laughed in delight. You'd seen photos of Spencer from a decade ago, and he never looked confident in front of the camera. If his winning personality could pull a hollywood actress even when he looked like a geography teacher, then you were even more smug to have him now in his model era.

"I want to know the details!" You exclaimed. "Did you have sex?"

"No!" Spencer looked horrified. "I think I'd have lost my job. No way would Morgan have been able to keep that quiet."

You made a mental note to ask Derek about Lila, because he clearly knew something. Had he seen them kiss? Had anyone else on the team? You kinda hoped that was photographic evidence because clearly Spencer was smoother than he claimed to have been.

"She, er, she'd pulled me into the pool when I was guarding her. That's when we kissed. It was just the heat of the moment, and it never happened again." He took a nervous sip of his drink. "When we met up a few years later, we laughed about it and she said she'd find a different way to say thank you for saving her life when she'd been too naïve to really appreciate the risks at the time. The gift baskets started the following year. The first one had a swimming magazine included." He pulled a face at that, and you couldn't stop the laugh that escaped.

"That is actually very sweet," you said, placing your drink down on the coffee table and scooting closer on the sofa.

"You're not mad?" Spencer checked, opening his arm to let you snuggle up against his side.

"About something that happened before we even met? Of course not. Besides, you don't get thanked enough for doing your job. A once a year gift basket of the fanciest chocolates and coffees I have ever seen is just fine with me."

You felt Spencer sigh in relief, and his cheek came to rest on the top of your head. "You're amazing, you know that?" His arm gently squeezed you closer as you hummed in playful agreement.

"Hey, Spence? Did Derek ever score with a Hollywood actress or is that an accolade you get to hold over him?" From the wicked grin that started to spread on Spencer's face, you guessed that at some point in time Spencer had indeed rubbed it in Derek's face, and you settled in to listen to his anecdote. The gift basket was left forgotten, at least for another hour or so, as Spencer launched into animated detail over a prank war in years gone past that had you both laughing.

[potterandpreferences]

In Sickness and in Health

Summary || Spencer comes home to find you're not feeling very well (cold like symptoms). Domestic fluff.

Pairing || Spencer x you (no description of reader, no use of y/n). Early seasons Reid imagined, could be any but there is a mention of Elle

The first sign that something wasn't right was the closed bathroom door. Spencer had checked the other rooms in the apartment and you were no where to be seen, but your shoes and purse were still right where they'd been this morning when he left.

"Sweetheart?" He knocked on the door gently. "Can I come in?"

A quiet sound of agreement reached his ears. Slowly, he pushed the door open and entered the rather steamy room.

Spencer didn't have to be that sort of doctor to instantly know that you were unwell. There were the telltale signs of a headache, the fact you were in the bath with the lights off, and also that it was 3pm in the afternoon. Too late for a morning bath and too early for a bed time one.

"What's wrong?" He kept his voice quiet, loosening his tie whilst lowering himself to his knees next to the bathtub.

"My boss is trying to kill me," you said. He tried not to smile. "Whatever was in that dust has made my nose radioactive." That explained the roll of toilet paper and bin that had been placed right beside the bathtub.

Spencer hummed, reaching out his hand to feel your forehead first and then placing a hand either side of your neck. He could feel that your glands were up, and from the sound of your voice he guessed your sinuses were pretty blocked up too.

"Have you been sick at all?" He asked, running a mental checklist of the food in the cupboards. He always tried to keep soup on hand, but he wasn't sure if there any left after he himself was ill with food poisoning a month ago. He'd vowed to himself that day that he would never follow a restaurant recommendation from Elle ever again.

"No, but I ache all over." That explained the heat from the bath, he thought, as well as the smell of the bath salts you rarely used that were supposed to help with relaxation.

Two days previously, your boss had asked if you could give the supply room a good clean. There was a small window but it had done little to alleviate the amount of dust that'd been kicked up in the process of sweeping, dust that had been in there since the start of the year.

Spencer gently massaged the back of your neck in sympathy. "Do you want me to stay?"

His heart melted at your little nod and softly whispered please. He leant over and pressed a gentle kiss to your head, before he repositioned himself more comfortably. Taking your hand in his began to gently massage it, resting your arm on the edge of the tub for easier access.

He'd been a caretaker a lot in his life, but that had always been his mom. He'd never had a partner before. The odd date here and there, but before you he'd never had a second or a third. He'd certainly never had someone stay over twice a week, when cases allowed. Now here you were, in his home and choosing to stay there even when you were ill. It was a level of trust and intimacy that he wasn't entirely sure how to process.

For now, that processing could wait. Instead, he unobtrusively kept an eye on your respitatory and heart rate, whilst making sure you didn't fall asleep in the water as your arm relaxed under his touch. It wasn't quite how he'd planned this evening to go, but aside from the fact you were ill it was perfect in its own way.

[potterandpreferences]

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x OC - can be read as fem!reader. No name or use of y/n as just a little blurb at this point. Might develop into something more.

The evening breeze carried the sweet smell of the flowers blossoming in the secluded gardens that had once belonged to the Queen.

She was sat on a bench in the centre of it all, breathing it in. Her fingertips rested lightly on the stone either side of her, the very picture of a graceful lady. Her posture was perfectly straight, expression gentle and demure. Her attire was spotless and hair tidy.

She looked like she belonged on that stone bench, in the bossom of the Pendragon stronghold. Truly, her only source of discontent in the moment was that this was the only formal garden.

Her castle had much more land set aside for flowers and trees both for pleasure and medicine, whereas here the surrounding town and citadel simply didn't allow for it. The next largest green space was the training grounds, and she could hardly start an orchard for the apple blossom that came but once a year there.

Her entire life she had known that the gardens she had been spoiled with growing up were not to be found elsewhere. There is a reason her family was renowned for them. If they were common place then it'd hardly be a legacy carefully curated by each generation, mainly by the queen's and their daughters. The blossom perfumes were her own particular speciality.

The wooden door creaking open pulled her from her reminiscing.

"'Scuse me, milady, but dinner will be ready in ten minutes." The maid curtsied as she entered the garden, skin flush from running throughout the castle.

"Very well." She brushed her skirts as she rose from the bench. "I remember the way, if you have other duties to attend," she added kindly. The serving girl thanked her and dashed back through the doorway. Idly, she wondered how long the poor girl had been searching for her. She doubted more than a groundsmen came into this private area.

She followed at a more sedate pace, taking care to close the door behind her after a final deep breath of the scented air. Dinner with the Pendragons had proven to be an entertaining affair so far. She, her father, and King Uther were all well aware that the visit was to discuss matrimony between herself and the newly crowned Prince Arthur. He, however, appeared to be completely oblivious.

She wondered if his manservant had filled him in yet, or if Arthur would be just as clueless tonight. A secretive smile crossed her lips. It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, to have a husband it was possible to surprise. It would keep things interesting. She just hoped that in matters of politics he would prove to be more aware.

[potterandpreferences]

Blood Like Water

Spencer Reid x sibling!reader.

Summary || You haven't seen Spencer since you left with your dad all them years ago. When Spencer and your dad make amends after a revealing few days, you agree to meet before he goes home.

It was noisy in the café. Patrons chatting to each other or on their phones, the coffee machines and blenders, the faint hum of acoustic music from the speakers and the baristas calling out orders. It was a familiar cacophany in any busy coffee shop. The loudest sound of all, however, was the silence between you and Spencer.

He looked as uncomfortable as you felt. What did you say to someone you hadn't spoken to in years?

"So, um, how are you doing? Dad mentioned you walked dogs?" His fingers played with the napkin nervously.

"Yeah, I freelance. I have some clients of my own, but I also help out at the shelter. Keeps me busy," you said. "I like being outdoors."

Spencer nodded politely. He liked being at the park to play chess, but that was in nice weather. He liked indoor activities. He didn't like dogs.

"You enjoy being in the FBI?" You continued, when he floundered for a reply.

"I can't imagine doing anything else." Somehow it made you feel a bit more secure that for all his doctorates, he was in a role someone with an ungrad could fill. You always thought he'd go off and be a big, hot shot rocket scientist.

You took a sip of your still too hot drink. The sooner it was empty, the sooner you could go.

Reconnecting had been a spur of the moment request on his part. Originally you were going to reject his offer (he had just accused your father of murder, after all), but you knew he and your dad had mended bridges. Sort of. At least enough for you to take a chance on the brother you hadn't seen for a decade.

"What time are you heading back to D.C.?"

He glanced at his watch. "Morgan will pick me up at half past."

That meant you had twenty minutes to fill. You swirled your drink around in its cup. There were a lot of questions you could ask (why didn't you ever write back? Didn't you get my calls? Did you ever realise that Diane didn't love me as much as you?) but none of them felt appropriate in such a crowd. Too emotional.

"Do you still read books way too fast?" You asked, catching onto one of the fleeting memories you had of your childhood together.

"It's not too fast. I still process everything that's on the page, which sometimes people don't do when they're skimming it. It means I can read more books in my lifetime. Do you like to read? I can give you some recommendations if you'd like," he rambled.

"That's okay," you hastily cut in when he paused for breath. "I'm not a big reader. What else do you get up to these days?"

A lot, apparently. Doctor Who conventions, guest lecturing, watching films in languages you'd never hope to understand. You told him about your interests too, clasping onto any crossover there was. It never stopped feeling awkward.

He was showing you a photo of the scarf he'd started knitting for his next convention when his phone rang. He answered it after the second ring.

"That's Morgan," he said apologetically, after the call ended a minute later. "I have to go."

"It was nice to see you, Spencer," you said, watching him gather his things as you stood up. You even think you were being truthful.

"You too. Um, I gave you my card. If you want to stay in touch..." he trailed off, uncertain, when his phone started buzzing again. With a grimace, he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Goodbye, y/n".

"Bye, Spencer." He hesitated, almost like he wanted to shake your hand. Instead, he jerked his head in a sharp nod and took his leave.

You gathered up your own things as you watched him get in an SUV across the street without a backwards glance.

You weren't sure if you'd ever use that number. A year of calling every week and never getting an answer had left a mark no amount of texting would fix. But maybe, just maybe, it'd be nice to have your big brother back.

[potterandpreferences]

Aaron Hotchner x teenage!reader.

Summary || Picking electives is hard enough in college, never mind high school. Luckily, your dad is around to help you choose what's best. Set between seasons 6 and 12, no mention of Beth.

Your notepad was open to a blank page. It had been blank since you opened it two hours previously. All your other homework was done, you'd done the dishes after dinner, and you'd had a shower. The page remained empty.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you slumped back on your chair.

Planning For the Future: Choosing Your Electives. Write a one page essay explaining which of the additional classes you would like next year. Consider your career goals and which classes will most suit your academic pursuits.

It was a task set by your home room teacher. Science, Literature and History were all core subjects and would remain. Additional classes included advanced maths, arts, design, and drama amongst others. You could only pick two, but were expected to supply a back up choice in case one of your preferred classes was full or clashed with your core subjects.

The problem was, you didn't want to take any more classes. Logically you knew how great it was that you went to a school that offered so much variety. It could really set you up for a good future, and not every school had the funding to even offer some of the extras that came courtesy of private education. But it felt like you were barely treading water, and the extra classes would pull you under.

When you went into protective custody, you'd had to pull out of school. You were out for months. Years on and it still felt like you were playing catch up. You tried so hard but A grades were elusive and each C chipped away at something inside of you. You felt like you should be doing better than that, that you were letting people down.

Shifting in your chair, you turned to look at the picture of your mother. You wished she was here. She'd always had a way of bolstering your confidence that no one else did.

"Everything okay, kiddo?" Aunt Jessica asked, sticking her head into your bedroom.

"Yeah, all good," you lied.

She looked skeptical, but didn't press. "Your dad will be back in half an hour." She tapped the door frame uncertainly but said no more. You heard her footsteps retreat back down the staircase. Letting out a heavy sigh, you laid your head on top of your notepad and held back the tears.

You didn't know you'd fallen asleep until a hand on your shoulder was shaking you awake.

"Y/N?" It was your dad. "There you are," he said as you blinked tired eyes open. "Your aunt said you were still doing homework. It's nearly midnight."

Still half asleep, you couldn't be bothered to keep up the pretence you'd had in front of your aunt. Clearly you needed help for this. Yawning, you pushed the sheet with the assignment and course electives towards him. "I don't know which ones to pick."

He was a good sport, picking up the sheet and pretending he hadn't already glanced over it whilst you were dozing.

"Are there any that sound interesting to you?" He asked.

"Not really. My classes are already a lot." You picked up your pen and started fiddling with it. As long as you tried your best, your Dad never said he was disappointed in your grades. You felt ashamed anyway. Failure.

"Do you enjoy drawing? Theatre? Maybe cross off the ones you know you definitely don't want to do. There is no right and wrong here, kiddo. Just do what makes you happy and if the workload proves too much then we can speak to the school."

Was crossing all of them off an option? You couldn't help but think. Your dad seemed to read the sentiment from your expression.

"If I had to pick, I'd be choosing drama. I joined the theater club because of your mom, but I did really enjoy it in the end. Now if it was Dr. Reid, he'd definitely be choosing advanced mathematics. Your aunt would be picking home economics because she loves to bake." He crouched down next to your chair, resting a hand on your knee. "Whatever you pick, it doesn't matter if you're not perfect at it. All that matters is that you get some enjoyment from it. And if after a semester you hate it then we'll ask for a conference and see if we can't get it changed or dropped, okay?"

You nodded, taking the sheet back from him. The two of you went through all the options available, making small marks of yes, no, maybe next to each one. It was close to 1 a.m. by the time you'd shortlisted your options, and at that point your dad sent you to your bed. You had another day before your essay was due, and you'd still have another school day to muddle through on not much sleep as it was without trying to write the essay now.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, packing away your school supplies.

"Anytime, kiddo." He ruffled your hair. "See you in the morning."

He waited until you were in bed before turning the lights out. He quietly shut the door with a whispered goodnight so as not to wake Jack.

You rolled onto your side, facing towards the desk. Your notepad might still be blank, but it didn't feel quite so intimidating and that was enough to let the tension finally drop away. Sleep came swiftly after that.

[potterandpreferences]

Doubling The Joy

Emily Prentiss x platonic!reader. No use of y/n. Set in London.

"That's not what I thought it'd be about," Emily said as you left the theatre. "Although I shouldn't be surprised by the toxic love interest."

"Romantasy is full of them," you agreed. "But you can't deny he has a damn good voice. Hard to stay mad at him with that range."

Emily laughed brightly. It took a lot of convincing to get her to see Phantom of the Opera. Musicals weren't really her jam. It was on your list of shows to see in the West End however and your puppy dog eyes worked in your favour. Tactical and deadly.

Linking arms, you moved with the flow of the crowd towards Piccadilly Circus. "I'm glad you came with me."

"Yeah, me too." Emily tipped her head back, peering up at the London architecture as you walked together. "You've been a good friend, y/n. The Christine to my Meg. I'm happy I met you."

"Who else could have shown you where to get the best kebabs from?" You teased, bumping shoulders playfully. "Best thing to soak up the alcohol!"

"So you've said," Emily snorted. "I haven't forgotten the Full English you made me eat the morning after either. To this day, I still can't smell bacon without feeling queasy - and I loved bacon! Pancakes are ruined."

You laughed without remorse at her disgruntled expression. It didn't stay on her face long before she broke out in a wide grin. The two of you carried on chatting until you needed to part ways to your different platforms, with cheeks sore from smiling and abs aching from laughter. It was always like that when you got together, and you hoped that never changed.

[potterandpreferences]

The Unofficial PA

Spencer had never really considered what happened to his reports. He filled them out by hand, then handed the file to Hotch. The others in the team had their tablets, he had his paper and pen.

He was surprised, therefore, when Agent L/N approached him two days after they got back from a particularly ritualistic case.

"Dr Reid?" He turned at the sound of her voice, blinking in sleepy, pre-caffeine surprise. "Hi. I was just wondering what this word says? It's not a term I'm familiar with."

He peered at the file in her hand, looking to where her finger rested. Spencer frowned. "Why do you have my case file?"

"Oh, I'm the one who inputs it onto the relevant databases," she said, as if that explained everything.

He explained the term absent mindedly, still confused as to why his case reports were in her hands, and she thanked him and went on her way. He ambled away from the encounter feeling perplexed, making his way up the short flight of stairs with his coffee cup in hand.

"Everything OK, Reid?" Hotch asked when Reid appeared in the door way, half standing in concern.

"Agent L/N puts my cases onto the computer?" His voice rose in half question.

Hotch leaned back in his seat, relaxing at the lack of emergency.

"That's correct, yes," He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "I read over them, then pass them onto her to input.

"I know technology isn't your friend. I'd rather you not have to do more overtime than we already do for the sake of admin."

"I never knew." Reid said, much to Hotch's amusement, as he took the offered chair with the air of someone who had just been told the sky was purple.

"Well, the paperwork fairy went on strike so someone had to do it," he teased. "I'm more surprised it took so long for you realise that your reports needed uploading."

"Today's the first day there was a word she didn't recognise." Reid explained. "Wait, how long has she been doing that? You guys got your tablets months ago!"

"It speaks well of her work ethic that she's only been stumped by the terminology in our cases the once," Hotch mused. "But, yes, I requested her assistance when the rest of us upgraded."

"I didn't realise I was just making work for someone else," Reid said sheepishly. "I appreciate you letting me do things the old fashioned way."

"Of course, Reid."

[potterandpreferences]

An Accident Waiting to Happen

Marauders Era | Sirius Black x Reader (gender neutral, friendship). Not proofread.

You caught Sirius' hand before he could add the porcupine quills.

"Let's maybe wait until the cauldron is off the heat before we add those in." He looks surprised, but lowers the ingredient back to the table and adjusts the level of fire. You tried not to be annoyed by his distraction - he'd been staring at James, Peter, and Remus all lesson. There'd been a falling out of some kind and now they were icing him out. But that was the third near miss with something that would cause an explosive reaction and you weren't sure your heart could take the stress.

You give him the go ahead to add the quills, and carried on with the necessary steps. He chopped the next ingredient whilst you stirred the necessary amount of times before letting the potion sit for a couple of minutes.

"I'm sorry," Sirius muttered quietly. "I know I'm not being much of a lab partner."

"It's okay. Well, it's not, but I think everyone knows you aren't yourself right now." It was true. Even if a student lived under a rock, they'd know Sirius as loud, brash and a player. He had to be the centre of attention, a space he'd only share with James. He was reckless but he was good at his subjects. Since The Argument he'd been quiet, on his own a lot, pining after his friends. "Just maybe stick to prepping the ingredients next lesson if your head isn't in the game? I'd rather not have to go to the hospital wing."

He smiled ruefully. "Yeah, that's fair. Well, I've finished with this prep. Potion is all yours to finish." He made a show of putting his hands behind his back. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

Still, you completed the last part of the potion without any more near maiming experiences. It wasn't completely perfect - your timings had been a little off - but it was the right consistency, just a shade too dark. An acceptable at the very least.

You handed in a sample and started to clear up the station. Sirius ran the left over ingredients back to the store room, and when class was over you found yourselves walking side by side until you went to your separate lessons.

It wasn't until dinner that you heard. Some poor first year had blown up the potions lab. Seemed as though a porcupine quill had been put in with the moonthistle stems and the first year hadn't noticed the difference. The kid was in the hospital wing but would be okay.

Searching through the crowd, you clocked a very sheepish looking Sirius Black keeping his head down. Note to self, you thought, don't let him put the ingredients away next time.

[potterandpreferences]

Because sometimes, there are dealbreakers that can't be compromised. Childfree reader. I think I kept it gn.

Criminal Minds | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

You didn't think you'd be moving back to your childhood home in your late 20s, but life happened. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, you knew this. Retirement didn't suit your mom so she'd started buying fixer-uppers and renovating them. Most of the properties were sold on for profit, but there was one beach front house that became a holiday home for your parents even though it could have set them up for the rest of the lives.

That's where they were now, having a holiday whilst you regrouped and tried to work out the next move in life. You were glad for the space. It meant they couldn't see how badly you were crushing on their neighbour, FBI agent Aaron Hotchner.

He was everything you'd ever wanted, or at least he seemed so. He was physically your type, he was kind when you had interacted, and he was a gentleman - helping when your car tyre was flat, offering to mow the front lawn as he was doing his side anyway. Everything was perfect except for -

"Daddy!" A small blond boy cried excitedly, launching himself into Aaron's arms as soon as he was close enough.

- that.

Children were not your forte. They were loud, messy and a lifelong commitment. They'd never been something you had wanted, and you knew yourself well enough to realise that extended to being a step parent. They would feel like another chore on the list, something chipping away at your freedom. And that was okay, you made peace with a future of being the crazy cat person. It didn't stop your stupid emotions from latching onto Aaron.

Every time you spoke to him, you felt listened to. It wasn't like you were having groundbreaking discussions either. These were small conversations from the driveway (hey, how are you? Crazy weather we're having!) and yet somehow you felt more listened to than you could remember. He was always present in every conversation no matter how short.

If only he didn't have a son!

Still, the reality was that he did have a kid who he loved with every fibre of his being. He and Jack deserved better, so although you were smitten you hid it as best as you could. You were not now, nor would you ever be, any variation of a homewrecker. If Aaron profiled your little crush, he was kind enough to never let on despite the odd stammer or your eyes sometimes wandering a little too long.

So here you were, in your childhood home with a crush on the boy next door. What had your life come to?

[potterandpreferences]

BBC Merlin | Arthur x fem!reader (no use of yn, platonic relationship)

"No matter how many years pass, I'll still never understand these tournaments," you declared, observing the now empty arena from your window. The afternoon bouts had ended abruptly and the feast had been postponed.

"It's about valour, proving your skill," Arthur explained, helping himself to the goblet of wine on the table. "It shows what a knight is made of."

"Flesh and blood, the same as the rest of us mere mortals." You arched an eyebrow as you saw Arthur's reflection rolling his eyes. "Scoff all you like, but we saw the evidence of that all over the sand. Gaius has a full chambers tonight, I fear."

Your brother in all but blood had no answer for that. Turning away from the sunset, you considered him.

"Surely, if people are so determined to have a tournament, it should be open to everyone? It seems rather counterintuitive to have your own knights risk life and limb for short lived glory, then be unable to defend the citadel properly because ten of them got themselves seriously injured." You walked away from the window, reclaiming the chair at the table. You arranged your skirts as you sat, the picture of grace. Everything expected as Lady Morgana's younger sister.

"Today was a freak accident and you know it. You stick a commoner in the arena and there really would be bloodshed. They have no training." There was several names that went unsaid, of all the knights who had been killed over the last year alone to entertain the king and crowd. "Besides, it's good for them to see where their weaknesses are. Better to know in a controlled environment than in a battle."

You hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Arthur's jaw was set in stubborness, but he wasn't truly defensive. It wasn't the first time nor would it be the last that you had this debate, and there was no real heat to it. You were aware your opinion was in the minority.

"I don't need to be a knight to know your weakness," you teased, plucking the nearly empty goblet from his hand. "It's my wine. Honestly, Arthur, just request it with your own meal."

"They always give me ale!" He complained. You laughed, and the subject moved on. At least for tonight. There was another day of vanity contesting tomorrow, though you rather expected the events of the afternoon would cool some of the more out of control egos.

[potterandpreferences]

Neighbourhood Watch

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader, no physical description of you, no use of y/n.

It wasn't the most morally dubious thing he'd ever done and really, he wasn't hurting anyone at all. In fact, he'd be willing to bet that he was the only one who knew something questionable had even happened.

It all started when Bucky moved in with the avengers. At first, when he was still working out how to be just James Buchanan and not an Asset, he spent a lot of time in his room. From his room, he could see into your apartment. He'd watch you for lack of anything else to do. Not in a creepy way, nothing that violated your privacy (well, not any more than he already was by having a direct view of your bedroom and your kitchen) but he'd watch you read or cook or watch shows on your laptop.

Eventually, the time you got up, went to work, came home, went to bed became part of his own routine. He felt concerned if you skipped a meal but it wasn't like he acted on it. He wasn't stalking. It was no different, he told himself, than when people went to the same park at the same time each day. They might not know names or personal details, but they'd still recognise the regulars and notice if they didn't show up. That's what you were to him. A regular fixture in his life that he could see from his room in the adjacent building. Just like neighbours. Only neighbours usually got reported if they spent hours staring into someone else's property. Perks of the tower - you couldn't see him back as the glass was tinted to protect his privacy. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He wasn't interested in invading your privacy any more than he already had though. What might have started as boredom became a visual reminder of what he was fighting for. The latest big bad was increasingly something Not Normal, Not Terrestrial, so it became a source of comfort for him to see someone going about living their normal human life in their normal not-space-techy apartment, because he'd helped to make it safe for them to do so. That's what he was protecting, and what you represented to him. A job well done.

That was all fine and good, until the day Bucky saw you packing up your belongings. He never planned to find out your name, but he had had to find out what it was to figure out where you were moving to. Somewhere along the line, his peace of mind had become dependent on seeing you safe and sound in your apartment. That light being on represented his duty being fulfilled, but you were the only one in that entire building he searched for before going to sleep. No one else reassured him in the same way.

So, he made the morally questionable decision to track you down. Old school, no paper trail to lead anyone after him or you. Then, when he found out where you had moved to, he found a way to swing by every day to make sure you were alive and well. The times varied, it was harder to watch when he had to go out of his way without alerting anyone as to where he was going, but without fail he'd find a way to see you.

He kept a distance. You never saw him. Sometimes he thought you noticed you were being watched because you'd look back over your shoulder or pull the curtains across earlier than you normally did. This didn't upset him because it meant you were alive and able to feel that little bit of paranoia that kept you safe.

He wished he could just live across from you again. It was so much easier. How to convince the team he wanted to move out when it was completely impractical in every way was a problem he hadn't solved just yet.

[potterandpreferences]

Uther's Daughter

BBC Merlin | No pairing. Fem!reader, no use of y/n

She was always careful about being friendly. Any sign of over familiarity was a surefire way to have Uther in a rage. They weren't good enough and so they were exiled from Camelot one way or another, to the front lines wartime or a suicide mission in peacetime. Or, when they were a high enough rank, he'd consider a union. If not for Arthur, she'd have been married five times over to men nearly twice her age by the time she was eighteen.

She wasn't like Morgana, didn't have it in her to he so outspoken. Her etiquette became a demure mask so, whilst she always had a kind word and a smile for anyone, she gained the reputation of being reserved to the point of being aloof.

Arthur had the entirety of Camelot to be his playground, but her freedom was curtailed. She was allowed around the castle and its grounds, but not allowed into the lower town at all. Even the quarters closer to the castle meant being escorted by at least two knights, and she felt uncomfortable both for taking them away from their duties but also for scaring the townspeople who had had their homes raided once too often to enjoy the presence of those in chainmail and pendragon tabbards.

Camelot to many was freedom - less risk of food poverty, the entertainment from the tournaments, the army that protected against bandits and thieves. For her it was a gilded cage with no true friendship. When she was fifteen, her best friend was a girl of a similar age named Elaine. That friendship had Uther considering Elaine's brother as her future husband. It became safer for her to not have close friends, not that Elaine wanted anything to do with her after she turned her brother down and denied her family a step up from their already elevated position in society.

Being Uther's daughter was a curse. Younger than Arthur, everyone knew she was born out of wedlock. Uther claimed her, recgnised her as his, but her duties were limited and she was nothing more than a chess piece to be played when the time came. Arthur couldn't protect her forever, and the King's Court knew exactly what she was for. They never liked scandal.

Sometimes, she dreamed of running away. When that Lancelot fellow was banished for not being noble, she had taken a bag out and considered following. Her courage did not rise to the occassion. She watched him leave from her window. The envy that threatened to swallow her whole when Arthur confessed he had gone to elope with Lady Sophia was tempered only by the fact he hadn't been successful. Still, she made a mental note to not trust Merlin after that. He'd probably drag her back too.

When Arthur left with Morgana and Gwen to go to Ealdor, she stayed behind. If she had gone, Uther would have sent men after them. Not because Uther particularly cared if she got injured, but because he would lose a valuable bargaining chip. Even he knew that if she had a single taste of freedom, she would not willingly come back home.

But that trip had changed the dynamic between the four that went. She couldn't say what it was exactly, maybe just the bond of people who fought side by side and lived to tell the tale, but she did know that they had become a circle with a shared secret from which she was once again excluded.

Now she was sat in a crowded hall, a goblet of wine in one hand and the other clenched in the fabric of her skirts under the table. No one spoke more than two words to her and that she was more than used to when Uther was sat two seats away. What was new were the lingering glances between the prince and the servant, and she knew she couldn't cope with watching the pair fall in love when she'd been punished for less.

She needed to escape and she needed to escape now.

[potterandpreferences]

It's Behind You!

BBC Merlin | Pantomime AU because 'tis the season and I love a good panto (oh no you don't). Lots of innuendo, gn!reader is said to be in a relationship with one of the Merlin gang but it never says who. The sat in gag is straight from a panto I saw last week, I can't claim credit.

Happy New Year everyone!

You were sat five rows back from the stage with your work colleagues. Every year, you did an activity of some sort before Christmas. Sometimes it was a festive dinner out, a typical end of year work do, but sometimes you picked something else. An escape room, axe throwing, wreath making and one very memorable pottery class three years ago.

This year, the group decided to go to the local pantomime. You hadn't told any of your work lot that your significant other was part of the cast, but the cast sure as heck knew that you were going to be there. When your colleague Carol ordered a glass of wine from the bar pre-show, you knew you were in for a good night. Carol was a delightful 50 something whose filter dropped the moment a drop of rosé passed her lips.

You ended up in the middle of the group, which was perfect for seeing and hearing all their reactions. As the lights dimmed and the auditorium hushed, you leaned back in your seat and waited for the firework.

Merlin - the Buttons character - was the best friend of Prince Arthur. Arthur met and fell in love with Gwen in the woods when Morgana (the fairy godmother type) "accidentally" got them lost. The villain of the piece was Mordred, who wanted the throne for himself.

Your coworkers were enthralled. Not necessarily by the plot (you see one panto, you've near enough seen them all) but the nuances that brought the characters to life were entertaining and the delivery of the jokes was superb all around ("look at the state of my dress!" "Sat in?" "No, chiffon." was your favourite pun so far).

Then came the scene where the dancers were introduced for the first time. Prince Arthur returns to Camelot to meet with his knights of the round table, his best friends in the whole kingdom. Carol's response to their presence on stage didn't disappoint, leaning forward and adjusting her glasses for a better look.

"Well," she whispered on your right. "I wouldn't mind that absolute bear of a man finding me in the woods!"

"Which one? All of them have ears that need warming up." That was Kerry. She was filterless sober, never mind two pints in. A snort escaped you, covering your mouth with your hand as you stifled your laughter. Thankfully there was a big musical number happening so your group lusting after the dancing knights didn't disturb anyone else.

The show continued on, and your group settled back down when the athleticism on stage slowed down. Well, at least until a very impressive quick change saw Gwen go from peasant to princess.

"Blimey," Jo said to your left. "I think I need to invest in a corset if they look that perky."

"I did not need that image right now", her boyfriend muttered, shifting in his seat. Jo giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. You didn't hear what she whispered into his neck, and you weren't sure you wanted to with how red his cheeks burned.

By the time the interval arrived, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your belly hurt from laughing. You slipped out of your seat, but instead of heading to the loos like you told your coworkers, you instead slipped backstage.

"So," 'Prince Arthur' caught your attention from the doorway to the dressing room. "Are your friends enjoying the show?" The rest of the cast drifted over, all keen to know how it was going.

"Well," you started slowly, already feeling your lips twitch. "They want to climb Percival like a tree, have hands buried in Leon's hair whilst he's burying his face elsewhere, they liked Gwaine in handcuffs very much, and they're very excited to see your sword in the next act, my lord."

'Lancelot' howled with laughter at your innocent expression which set everybody else off. As objectifying as it was, they found the humour in it. Part of the joy of the pantomime was something for the adults as much as something for the kids. 'Morgana' was thrilled to find out Jo's boyfriend was too scared to look at anything other than her and 'Gwen's' faces after Jo announced her newfound desire for a new type of underwear. Her devious expression as she readjusted her dress only highlighted that fact.

You chatted until the five minute warning call. Heading back to your seat, ready for Act Two with a little tub of ice cream in hand, you smirked when you saw the state of your team. Carol had another glass of wine, Kerry had pint number four, and Jo was looking very pleased with herself whilst Ben had strategically placed his coat over his lap and looking very flustered as he intently read the programme.

Digging into the treat with the wooden spoon, you couldn't wait for the second half. Especially now that you'd given the cast had the go ahead to be flirty to the fifth row. You nearly choked when Carol asked if you thought Mordred would sign her -

[potterandpreferences]

Christmas of Past, Present and Future

A/N: Marauders era. James Potter x Reader (house not specified). I think I kept it gender neutral but not proof read so something may have slipped through.

Hogwarts at Christmas was as festive as could be, with knights that sung carols and fairies that lit up the trees. It was spectular. Professor Flitwick always ran an extracurricular class to teach animation spells for wrapping paper, and Professor Sprout and Hagrid showed how to make wreaths and garlands to invite peace into the home without any of the pests. Spirits were high amongst the students because the holidays were coming and the professors were excited to have a reprieve from the chaos, if only for a couple of weeks.

"Come on, YN!" One of your friends called. "Maccy G will have our guts for garters if we're late to the end of term feast." Oh how you regretted taking them to McDonald's in the summer when that nickname got invented because of it.

"Maccy G?" A voice questioned with unrestrained glee.

"If you tell her that nickname is my fault, I'll have your guts for garters, Potter," you warned with no real heat.

"Kinky," James Potter teased as he fell into step beside you, the tapestry he'd appeared out from falling back into place. "But don't you worry a hair on your head. I can keep a secret. Besides, she'd blame me anyway and I don't need another detention."

You made a noise of agreement. James was well known for being a trouble maker. In his younger years he was a bit of a bully too, but this year he'd had a better moral compass. That didn't mean he got into any less trouble with his perpetually exasperated head of house.

He launched into a tale about his latest totally unjust detention than involved a firework, a broom closet, and a bucket of unidentified slime, entertaining you until you made it to the Great Hall.

You rejoined your friends in your normal spot. The food was lovely as always, but it sat heavy and their conversation entirely revolved around holiday plans and who could meet up with who.

As you were having to stay at Hogwarts this year, you couldn't join in with the plan making. Loneliness felt like a cloak around your shoulders. A fake smile kept your friends off your case, and they bought the lie that you had too much at lunch when your plate was still half full at the end of the meal. You didn't have any pudding. They were too caught up in the hype to notice. To top the dinner off, you had to pretend not to notice that every now and then, James Potter stared right at you with a concerned frown.

You managed to fake happy up until the point they left to take the carriages to the station the next morning. Once they were gone, you dropped the pretence. There was no need for it any more. All your friends had gone home this year so there was no one to tattle out of concern to the rest of the group if you finally looked as miserable as you felt.

Wrapping your cloak tighter around your torso, you made your way to the north tower. Most people didn't come up here, except to attend divination lessons, but there was a delightful alcove with a stone bench that had at some point been enchanted to feel like you were sat on a cloud. The window opposite had a view of forest.

This was one of your favourite places in the whole of the castle. It held a quietness that the rest of the castle lacked. It was like the magic of Hogwarts built up from this quiet, barely used tower until it had the strength to wash over the rest of the castle. A sentience that had nothing to do with the portraits nor students nor enchanted objects. The feeling came from the very walls. It was protective and soothing and you always left that alcove feeling rejuvenated.

Settling on the bench, you observed the life outside. You kept a mental catalogue of all the species and creatures you'd seen from this exact spot over the years. A thestral sometimes, owls if it was closer to dusk. Then there were the normal birds like robins and blackbirds, plentiful and with a ready song. Once, in your third year, you'd seen the headmaster's pheonix. Ocassionally you'd see the centaurs or a unicorn, but it was rare that they ventured this close to the castle without a member of staff meeting them for one reason or another.

You skipped lunch, not ready to be social with the few who remained, and kept watching the world outside.

It seemed so silly to be upset about not going home for Christmas in the grand scheme of things, but you already felt like you were missing out. At Hogwarts, Christmas was a one day affair focussed on food and presents. At home, it was a blend of rituals and traditions. Your family had a blended muggle and wizarding background so while yes, you celebrated Christmas, you also had traditions influenced by old wizarding rites. The yule log on the solstice, the sacrifice of magic to the earth, doing things by hand to appreciate the gift you had. They were what made the season so special. They were also frowned upon in some circles - not enough old magick for the most conservative, too traditional for the opposition, outdated to new blood.

It wasn't just the traditions either. You also missed your family. It was your first Christmas without them, and you just needed to process the homesickness you hadn't felt since first year. Your family would all be together for the holidays as usual, one way or another. It was just you left out in the cold.

Footsteps broke the silence you had been enjoying. Hastily scrubbing your face in case any tears had leaked, you leaned forward to peer around the corner and saw none other than James Potter coming down the corridor.

"Are you going to sit here all day?" He asked, letting out a surprised grunt when the bench wasn't as hard as he expected. You didn't even question how he knew you'd been here since the morning at this point. He always seemed to know where everyone was.

"Not all day," you replied. "Just missing home. Christmas isn't the same here."

Understanding flickered across his face. "You practice the traditions?"

"A variation. It doesn't seem right to not honour magic, but Dumbledore will never make an exception. He's the one who got rid of them."

It was true. Every holiday had darker, blood sacrifice levels of rituals that had been performed at some point in history. Those were the ones that were most dangerous, to the practitioner as well as to other creatures who were often sacrificed unwillingly. A small minority had ruined it for all because everyone was tarred with the same brush. Now, even the sanitised version became a dirty little secret even though you weren't ashamed of them.

"Tell me about them?" James asked. "I'll tell you mine."

And so you did. You sat there as the daylight faded telling him all the ways your family spent the holidays, and he shared his in return. There were some similarites and some differences, but there was a shared understanding of the importance of such rites. With each detail shared, you felt the weight lifting off of you. Speaking of the rituals wasn't the same as doing them, but acknowledging them aloud with Hogwarts listening in with a swell of magic curling around the alcove uplifted you.

Eventually, James took your hand and led you to the kitchens (you'd missed dinner, too engrossed in storytelling). There was a little table that you sat at, plied with warming bowls of stew and bread and goblets of juice. At his request, the house elves shared what they remembered about the solstice and yule traditions in years gone by. It was fascinating. You couldn't stop asking questions after that, backing off and redirecting the conversation when there were secrets they could not or would not share.

"Yous should be asking the centaurs," said a delightful elf called Hattie when the stew was gone and you were getting ready to head back to your dormitories. "Wes be knowing the castle, but theys be knowing the grounds."

You looked to James with eyes shining. It was getting late, curfew was in half an hour. It was the perfect time for an adventure. With a hint of mischief, the pair of you ran down hallways and darted through secret passages until you entered the Forbidden Forest with the supplies Hattie had provided. You placed the offering on a log in a clearing, then stood back with James in an area of moonlight.

"Do you think they'll come?" You whispered after five minutes. Before he could answer, someone else did.

"Students are not meant to be here. What is it you seek?" You and James jumped as out from the treeline with nary a sound appeared three centaurs. They had bows and quivers but they didn't seem hostile, just wary. You had a feeling they'd been watching you long before they entered the clearing.

"Please, sir, we just wondered if you could tell us about the yuletide rites that used to be practiced. Hattie said you might be able to help," you explained.

"Hattie, you say?" Glances were exchanged, before a silent agreement was made between the trio. A soft smile crossed the middle centaur's face as he came closer to the pair of you, lowering himself to the ground. "Sit, children, and let me tell you of the past and the present."

You didn't hesitate to settle onto the forest floor. Even James was enthralled, an attentiveness in his posture that you'd never seen before. The centaur, he introduced himself as Rowan, was a fantastic narrator. You could almost feel the power of the rites of times gone by, awed by the tales his great-grandsire had told him as a foal of wizard and beings and beasts all forming the ritual circles in harmony, leaving offerings together and sharing the task of lighting the yule fire, of the sharing of knowledge and magic to bring in a hopeful New Year.

Your head was bursting with all the new information you had learned when Rowan, some hours after he started, insisted you return to the castle. James led the way as you stole back into the school, keeping to the shadows to avoid being caught. Curfew had long since passed so you kept quiet, not daring to discuss anything you'd been told.

James escorted you all the way back to your common room. You turned to face him, giddy from the sneaking around. Without hesitation you hugged him tightly, before stepping back.

"Thank you for today. It was a good distraction, and it was nice talk openly about yule," you said. That it had given you ideas on how to honour the traditions in a stripped back way in your dormitory was even better.

"No, thank you. I forget about the meaning behind traditions sometimes. After tonight, I don't think I'll forget again." His eyes were just as bright as yours, hair wild from the wind and the low reaching branches. He seemed like a woodland creature himself in that moment, aglow with knowledge imparted in good faith.

A yawn surprised you, tiredness following behind as the excitement receded now your bed was so close.

"That's my cue, I guess. Goodnight, James. I'll see you tomorrow?" You smiled softly when he agreed.

With a final grin and a little wave, you made your way up the stairs to head to bed. You didn't see James borrow an abandoned quill to start scratching out a list of things needed to complete at least one of the rites he'd learned about that night. He was sure the boys would be willing to get stuck in as well.

When the list was complete and the ink dried, he tucked the parchment into his pocket. He looked at the direction you'd gone with a secretive grin. He couldn't wait to see your face when everything was ready.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

[potterandpreferences]

Sunny Disposition

BBC Merlin | Merlin x gn!reader

"Good morning, Merlin." He turned to the source of the voice, and grinned when he saw you.

Merlin always had a smile for everyone. He'd only been in Camelot for a couple of weeks, and yet so many people already knew of him. He impressed a lot of the lower class when he stood up for the manservant who was being used as a moving target, when he didn't back down a day later when Prince Arthur goaded him into another fight. His good humour in the stocks won the hearts of the children and he impressed the nobles when he saved the prince from Mary Collins.

"Keeping busy, Y/N?" He asked, as he passed.

"Always!" You laughed, and carried on running your errands. Serving in the castle was honest work, but it was constant and never ending. If a servant had time to sit down for ten minutes and it wasn't a meal time, then they'd definitely forgotten something they were meant to do.

Still, there were little golden moments that made it all worth while. Morganna didn't always maintain the distinction of rank as well as she ought to, with quick quips and a playful smirk to whoever was nearby when something amused her. Gwen was lovely too, always happy to help if you were overloaded or bringing you a bunch of flowers if she wanted to cheer you up. Gaius was snarky with an eyebrow that had a language all of its own, but he was also kind and made sure you were sleeping and eating enough.

Still, it was Merlin's smile that cheered you the most these days. He was a little ball of sunshine, and you felt lighter just being near him.

Didn't hurt that he was cute, either.

[potterandpreferences]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Criminal Minds | Spencier Reid x GN!Reader (ace/aro vibes but no label is applied to reader).

When Spencer decided he needed a roommate his reasons were quite practical. Financially it made sense to have some help covering rent for a place he didn't live in all the time (the BAU paid well but not that well) and it also protected his apartment from home invasion. It wasn't foolproof of course but statistically an apartment that was empty for weeks at a time was a more likely target for a burglary. Ergo, a roommate.

You were the seventh person to view the place. He liked you immediately. There was no over the top flirting like number three, who'd have fallen out of her top if it was cut any lower (incidentally the only one to offer the payment in other ways). No alcohol abuse like number five (even now, he couldn't be around an addict. It raised ugly memories) and definitely not number nine who put his cup of coffee down right next to the coaster that was waiting on the table. Spencer had felt his eye twitch. He contacted you straight after that.

Within six months of you moving in, it had all become quite domestic really. You shared the chores and watched tv together, although your tastes didn't always align. When you were both home you discussed work and how your days had been over dinner, and when he was away you'd text each other morning and night to check in. You made his favourite foods and stuck them in the fridge when he was due back home, and he brought you little souvenirs from wherever work took him.

Derek was the one who helped him with all the paperwork to sublet the room before Spencer found the perfect fit. The team knew he had a roommate but they never asked for details, and Spencer never provided them. You were his slice of normalcy and he was quite happy to keep you seperate from all of that.

At some point when Spencer wasn't looking, the dynamic shifted from roommates to something else. It wasn't a relationship in the traditional sense of the word. It was platonic but teetered on the cusp of more than friends. There was physical contact - cuddling on the sofa, hand holding on walks around the park, and one kiss under the mistletoe - but there was no sex, nor did either of you want there to be. It was a partnership with more intimacy than simply best friends but with no desire to climb into bed, or to declare yourselves romantically involved. It was nothing he'd experienced before and there was probably a label that he hadn't read about yet that'd describe what was between you. He found he didn't really care about its name. It just was. It boiled down to companionship. It mightn't be an all-encompassing romantic love but it was no less meaningful. No less steady and secure.

Even now, sat at opposite ends of the sofa with his feet in your lap, he didn't think he could verbally explain the feeling of home you provided. Perhaps that was why he never offered to introduce you to the team. He loved them but the sort of relationships that they needed were very different to the things he needed. You were his hint at what another life might have been like had he not joined the BAU, something he never thought he'd be able to have with the amount of times that unsubs seemed to find personal information out about the team.

Something about the two cups - on their coasters - on the coffee felt intrinsically right. He'd never realised how lonely his singular cup had been.

His reasons for finding a roommate might have been practical.

His reasons for keeping one were entirely emotional.