#I'd love her to get involved in a District case of his somehow and get him in a work environment and just give flashes of it

[pathologicalreid]

hello!! i've been reading your spencer works for a while and they're definitely one of my favorites from this app :) so I'd like to request something :)

I've always loved the idea of spencer coming back home from a case earlier than expected and surprising reader (gf or wife) at work to pick her up! and reader could be a chemist or a scientist so spencer is interested and involved in her work somehow and they're just talking, being cute and fluffy and just happy to he together again <3 thank you for your time, and no pressure!

pure and applied chemistry | S.R.

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: fluff content warnings: fem!reader, chemical burns, lab incidents, yapper!reader, kisses word count: 1.06k a/n: i wasn't even going to post this today but i wrote it and fell in love with spencer and his biochemist gf!!!!! this might be a pairing that i start taking requests for - thank you so much for requesting!

The air was barely starting to chill in the district, making it still unseasonably warm as you tried to take off your jacket without removing your book bag. It would’ve been easy to be embarrassed, but you were the only person around this part of campus – most students had a Reading Day, but your lab was still open, and your graduate student still wanted to work.

You had been the last person in the lab that she approached with her idea, having been turned down by the rest of campus, but you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. In fact, you had been so bored in the lab that you considered applying for another PhD.

Tying the sleeves of your jacket around your waist, you pulled your phone out of the back pocket to check the campus transportation app. As you started typing in your passcode, your eyes caught on a notification from your boyfriend.

Spencer Reid, PhD: Not home until tomorrow.

Sending back a quick emoticon – because an emoji would just show up as a square on his phone – you switched to checking what time the bus was supposed to show up at your stop before a passing car caught your eye, the car slowed to a stop right in front of you. “Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “It’s illegal to idle at a bus stop!” You called out to the driver, “You can’t stop here!”

Startled, you took a step back when the driver opened their car door, gripping your phone tightly as you mentally prepared for a confrontation, but only ended up confused when a familiar mess of brown hair peeked over the roof of the vehicle, “You don’t recognize my car?”

“Of course, I recognize your car! I just didn’t think it could be your car because last you told me you were in Nebraska!” You said, outwardly complaining as he rounded the hood of the car to open the passenger door for you.

Spencer smiled at you over the car door, “I told a fib in order to reap the benefits of surprising my girlfriend at work. Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

Rolling your eyes as you sat in your seat, “Oh, I’m sure she could probably find the strength to forgive you.” You were beaming as Spencer took your book bag and placed it in the back seat.

As you buckled your seatbelt, Spencer got back behind the wheel, checking his mirrors before merging into the road, once you reached your first stop light, you noticed Spencer looking over at you, “What did you do to your arm?” He asked, making note of the gauze wrapped around your dominant forearm.

Frowning, you looked down at your arm, having previously forgotten the gauze was even there, “Chemical burn,” you answered indifferently, studying the first aid on your arm. “Not a bad one though, probably won’t even scar,” you added. “Oh, that reminds me, I need a new lab coat,” you blurted, fishing around the center console of Spencer’s car for a pen so you could scrawl a reminder on your uninjured forearm.

“How did you get a chemical burn on your arm?” Spencer asked, returning his eyes to the road when the light turned green. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached over and casually placed one hand on your denim-clad thigh.

You were no stranger to a small burn on your finger – you were fairly certain that your fingerprints were no longer a viable way of identification – but you usually got away with a thorough rinse and a unicorn band-aid. “My grad student, Leslie, mislabeled something in the lab. Another person tried to get me to report it, but Leslie cried so hard while she was helping me clean my arm that I didn’t want to get her in any sort of academic misconduct trouble. I mean, who knew that hydrochloric acid caused chemical burns anyway?”

Spencer deftly flicked the turn signal as he moved to get on the highway to his apartment, “Uh, you and I know,” he said, there was a critical tone in his voice, but it was directed toward your flippancy instead of the injury itself.

“It wasn’t super concentrated, so I’m really fine,” you insisted, telling him the same thing you had told Leslie when the incident occurred, “I’ve done worse.”

Smiling, your boyfriend shook his head, “It’s a wonder they still let you in chemistry labs.” He was referring to a burn you had given yourself a few months ago, leading to an embarrassing trip to the hospital where doctors had to debride a nasty burn to your thigh. That particular incident had led to the director of your lab gifting you an enamel pin, designed to look like a hazardous materials symbol.

You looked at him, watching intently as he exited off the highway and made it to his apartment. Not long ago, an impromptu trip to Spencer’s would’ve been an inconvenience, but now you had two drawers of his dresser as your own. He led the way up the stairs and you followed him through the door of apartment twenty-three.

Locking the door before turning all of his attention to you, he cupped your face in both of his hands before kissing both of your cheeks – right over the tender, red lines left by your lab goggles. “Promise me you’ll be more careful in the lab,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist and herding you over to the couch.

As you sat down on the couch, Spencer joined you, grabbing at your hips until you gave in, seating yourself in his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. You intertwined your fingers at the back of his neck, tilting your head to the side, “We’re all done with tests anyway – there will be considerably fewer chemicals involved while I get on my knees and grovel to the federal government for funding to start a clinical trial,” you told him, considering the repercussions of pressing your lips to his.

“What kind of chemicals could you possibly need to apply for federal research grants?” Spencer asked, gently resting his hands on your waist.

Beaming, you waggled your eyebrows at him, “One, three, seven-Trimethylpurine-two, six-dione, baby.”

Realization dawned on his features as he understood, “Ah, caffeine.”

[smolbeandrabbles]

Love It Gone - Bill Samuels x Reader (The Outsider)

A.K.A - Kenneth Hayes for you non-book readers

I’m happy to be proved wrong that I’m the only person who is a fan of our DA, of course 😏😉

Author’s Note: I. FREAKING. LOVE. HIM! Also really this should have come out last week, when I needed it - but, eh, I wanted to wait until I’d seen him on screen first, for editing purposes 😊

Disclaimer: The Outsider Characters not mine / Don’t mind me giving his original name back! / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: With your DA working the case of the century - at least for his District - and you having your own bad week. You confide in a mini therapy session...

Words: 1530

Warnings: Potential The Outsider spoilers / subtle Sub/Dom vibes.

________

I know, I know it, baby Sounds like your day's been crazy I just wanna hold ya All the weight that's on your shoulders Anything that's wrong Let me, let me love it gone Come on and trust me, honey I can turn those raindrops sunny Let me untie that tangle... Let me, let me love it gone Got a whole lot of love that I've been saving And a bottle of wine that's been waiting Long time for a night like this Whatever's wrong, check it off your list I want, I want I wanna get lost in your lips Oh, baby, let me love it, let me, let me love it Let me, let me love it gone

---

The front door opened to the fairly quiet house – announcing the arrival of your partner. Late. You didn’t even need to look to a clock to confirm that. That was to be expected, he was rarely early – if ever on time. If you added about an hour onto whatever he told you, you’d be more in the ball park.

And that was before he got working on a big case. This case wasn’t just big, it was huge. Nothing like this every really happened in the District – yet alone Flint City. He didn’t often bring work home with him, but this case was becoming a nightly debate. Curse me for falling for the district attorney… For the first few minutes all you heard was shuffling in the hallway, and lights flipping on and off. The sound of him ascending the stairs in a hurry and then descending the stairs in caution only gave cause for you to smile gently. Then his feet followed his light path, and you heard him trudging in circles in the kitchen, that only made you laugh to yourself, raising your head from the couch; “Bill-!?” Then you were greeted by the more confident strides from the kitchen, to the hall, and then to your living room. “Oh-! You’re here-! I thought you might have…” He pointed to the top floor, and you shook your head. “No… Figured you’d be wanting to unwind…” “Yeah-!” He placed a hand to his temple wearily “…If I could.” You patted the couch; “C’mon babe, talk to me.” He span another circle – and you figured that in reality he probably didn’t even know which way was up at the moment. “Uh… yeah… yeah… Just… give me a tick.” He disappeared again, and you sat up, only to turn the soft lighting in the room up a notch before curling back up.

When Bill returned he had a beer in his hand, and you weren’t sure that was the best idea either. Whatever gets him through this one… if he gets through this one… He sat on the end of the couch and slid across as you lifted your head up. This was it; how therapy sessions usually worked in this house. Bill rested his arm across your shoulder and you entwined your fingers with his; “What’s up?” “���No. Better question, what isn’t up.” You moved gently to settle yourself; “…Is it the case?” “Which case?” You chuckled, which case, like it could have been any other “The Terry Maitland case-!” “Not the case I wanna talk about.” “That sounds like it’s going well.” “It was.” That statement followed by the sip of beer was blunt enough. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, voice soothing; “It’s a solid case… You’ll get him.” “It’s more doubt as to whether he did it now.” “Doubt-!? The evidence is solid right? That’s what your detective said!” “Ralph did say that, but God, it’s just a mess…” “Can you talk about it?” You twisted your head to look at him, concerned. And eventually he swallowed hard and his brown eyes lowered to yours, “…Yeah… Probably. I just… don’t think I want to.” “That bad, huh?” “Mmm…” He looked back to the TV, and quirked an eyebrow; “What are you watching?” “CSI NY.” “Oh… Isn’t that a little too close to home?” You were a detective too, not in the same office as Ralph – and just out of District, thankfully. If your office was just a few miles West it would have made bringing anything to court fun. “No. It’s fun.” “Why?” “Oh, come on, like you wouldn’t like to watch law programs and tell me everything they are doing wrong.” “Ugh! Right now I just want to get away from any of that-!” “Tough. You’re staying…” You pulled his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles, “No, but, Bill…” You said it softly, but serious, “You’ll put this guy away I know you will…” You had faith in him, he rarely if ever lost a case. And this one had solid evidence. “Y/N…” You didn’t think him protesting to it was helping, so you didn’t let him. “You were elected right? They trust you…” “Yes but-” You reached out and pressed your fingertips to his lips – “Hush. Baby, no buts…” you gave a sweet smile, “…Just relax…” Bill’s shoulders noticeably sloped and he lent back against the couch; “How about your day? For you to be curled up here under blankets…” You shook your head, knowing he had you to a T. “Horrible.” “Wanna talk about it?” “It’s just been a week, babe…” You shuffled once more to bring your knees in and huddle yourself further under your blankets, whilst also winding yourself around his own warmth. “Tell me about it…” He sighed gently, balancing the bottle to run a hand through your hair – giving your fingers an affectionate squeeze “…I need a holiday after this one for sure.” “Eh. Don’t get ahead of yourself…” You smiled, “This one needs your full attention we both know that.” “Yeah. And so does everyone else.” Bill tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, “…my whole re-election is going to rest on this case and-” “What did I just say-!?” “Don’t get ahead of myself.” “Mm. Just think on winning this one…” “I’d still say that’s ahead of myself. But I’ll humour you.” Oh, you hoped he’d be doing a little more than that… “Hold on…” He left you again momentarily, and when he returned it was with the tub of ice-cream that you’d just bought. Clearly that wasn’t lasting long. You eyed him and his single spoon as he moved you again – last time he promised – to resume relaxing. You knew what he was doing, but you also knew the downward spiral that led to. “Uh-! What did I tell you about comfort eating?” He sighed, gently, “Stop?” “Stop.” You repeated him a little sterner But he suddenly looked downcast, and it was clear that Bill was going to start sulking; “I need it.” This time your voice was concerned; “Stop. It’s not good for you.” Comfort eating was fine in doses, you did that enough often – and in that respect the two of you were fairly alike. Bill had a habit of not being able to stop. You supposed you only aught to be glad that his muse was his sweet tooth and not the bottle. “I need it.” And this time he insisted. “Bill Samuels.” This time, at your call of his name like that, he withdrew his hand from the tub; “Good boy.” “Just one-” but he didn’t miss that hard look in your eyes once he caught your stare; “Please...” Your look on your face softened just because of the look on his – how could you say no to that? He was a little too good at breaking your will sometimes. But you’d seen him do worse, especially in the court room. You wouldn’t like to be the person under fire when District Attorney William Samuels got going. You kinda enjoyed seeing him do it, though. “A spoonful?” He tried to appeal to your good nature, which made you fold your arms and give a small shake of your head to concede; “I’ll allow it.” You knew it was going to take a little more than that, as he popped the lid. You watched him carefully but said nothing, biting your lip gently; “You better be prepared to work hard to burn those calories, boy.” He resealed the tub and let the spoon fall with a clatter to the coffee table; “I’m done.” “I bet.” “No more until this case is over. I promise.” You figured at the moment that was going to be hard to keep, but took his hands back in yours as you continued to watch the TV together Eventually you broke the silence, hoping this time around you might get your DA to cave; “…Tell me what happened.” He cleared his throat, “…Terry Matiland currently appears to have been in two places at once. How is that possible?” “…For sure?” “Ralph’s gone to check evidence at the hotel. But what if… Y/N.” “That’s impossible. You have witnesses. Baby, you have DNA and prints that put him there – it’s not lost until it’s lost. And you told me that.” Bill did say things to you like that – and often, when you’d come home panicking about a court case with your own DA… “Maybe you’re right…” He hesitated for a second, but then pressed on. “Maybe we have this, and it’s all just going to be some stupid coincidence. Or, doppelgänger thing. I dunno.” “Juries have convicted on less. And for you.” “Juries have convicted on less.” You were glad to hear that shot of confidence back in his voice. Your eyes flicked back to him almost nonchalantly, and you tilted your head, that glint in your eyes that Bill also knew far too well; “Besides, you know what happens if you win… right?” A different kind of tension now ran through his body, to match the blush that crossed his face, and his lips parted for his gasped breath. “Y-Yes…” And that sweet smile of yours turned to a wicked smirk; “Good Boy…”

--- Thank you for reading! ❤

Can someone PLEASE inbox me about him I really want to talk about my baby DA!