#Lance sweets imagine

[specialagentlokitty]

Lance sweets x reader - my genius

May I request a Lance Sweets x reader where the reader is Spencer Reid's sibling and also a genius? - @elemental-of-magic 💜

Knocking on the door to the office, you waited a second before you opened it and walked in, looking up from your file to close it before you carried on.

“Hey Lance.”

He smiled, watching as you walked over to the couch, sitting yourself on it, still not looking up from the file.

You flicked to the next page, eyes scanning over the words before you turned it again.

“Hey, busy day?” He asked.

Lance got up, making his way over he leant down, pressing a kiss to your head before he took a seat next to you.

You hummed, leaning into his side.

Smiling brightly, Lance wrapped his arms around you, kicking his feet up on the table, letting you rest your head on your chest.

He knew he wasn’t going to get proper answers out of you yet, not while you were reading so he waited patiently for about a minute until you placed the file down on the floor.

You titled your head back and looked up at him.

“Booth has been teasing you again, hasn’t he?”

“How can you tell?”

You smiled a little, reaching up you loosened his tie slightly, smoothing it down.

“Because you tighten your tie to try and seen more professional when he does.”

Laughing, your boyfriend shook his head at you and gave you a loving smile.

“What are you thinking about lunch?”

“I’m thinking that cafe you seem to like so much, it’s not far, and my team just finished a case, so I have time to spare until I need to go.”

This confused him.

“Go where?”

“To the lecture hall, the higher ups want me to teach a lecture once a week to profilers in the making, along with my brother of course.”

“Right, that makes sense you’re both incredibly smart, but do they really need the both of you?”

You shrugged.

“Spence is smart, but I have more of a way with words that people can understand, he likes his facts and it can get confusing for some people. I can take his facts and word them so everybody there can understand them. He writes the lectures I speak them.”

You sat up, looking around the office before you turned back to the man who was sat next to you with the most loving gaze.

He wore a smile to match, and his hand reached out so he could take yours and lace your fingers together.

You looked at your hands before connecting eyes with him, a smile gracing your lips as you did.

“Will you be home late?”

“Given rush hour traffic, and providing the lecture finished on time which I know it won’t, I will probably be home an hour later than normal.”

Lance nodded, and he held up a hand, telling you to stay there as he made his way to his desk.

He grabbed some papers and walked back over.

“Before we get lunch booth wanted me to profile some stuff, and I can’t really make much sense of it, maybe you can.”

You took the papers and spread them out on the table, flicking your gaze over them all.

“Organised, careful, no evidence left behind other than what your killer wanted you to find, most likely planted to throw the scent on to somebody else.”

Lance leant forward, and you pointed to the photos of the evidence as well as the log sheet.

“See here, a wallet but no ID cards or bank cards, the shoe prints are shallow, the shoes were too big for whoever wore them, your suspect properly cleaned and returned them to the store you won’t find them.”

You carried on talking, explaining to Lance what it was he needed to look for with cases like this and he listened carefully.

He flicked through everything while you were giving him a brief profile, and then when you were finished you looked at him.

“It’s all I can tell you right now.”

“No, it perfect thank you, I’m sure it’ll help them a lot.”

He stood up, grabbing his jacket he pulled it on and you followed him out of the office, lacing your fingers with his.

“I don’t understand why Booth doesn’t just go to you for help.”

“You’re smart Lance, really smart, and he trusts you.”

“Really?”

You smiled, stepping into the elevator with him.

“Of course, why do you think he keeps coming to you for help. Booth sees you as a friend, he may not like the whole psychology aspect, but he trusts you and knows you wouldn’t lead him astray.”

Lance smiled, looking at you as you flicked through the pages of your little notebook.

Taking it from you, he put it into his pocket and you frowned a little as you turned your attention to him.

“You work a lot, take a break, I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

You nodded, leaving the building with him as he led you towards his car.

Lance could see your eyes skimming over everybody and he knew what you were doing.

You were creating a profile of them all in your head, listing things that you could tell about them from what you could see and hear.

You did it when you first met him and that’s what made him develop a crush for you, he was immediately smitten not just for how beautiful you were to him, but because of your intelligence.

You were incredibly smart, though sometimes it was your downfall, you could never stop thinking, there was always something you were thinking about.

You had to be busy, always.

Sometimes your brain ran into overdrive and you couldn’t stop it.

Today was one of those days, so, before you got in the car he stopped and so did you, turning your gaze to him and immediately your eyes softened and you smiled.

“You’re incredible…” he whispered.

You smiled even more.

“So are you.”

Lance leant down and you met him halfway, kissing him gently, your other hand coming up to touch the side of his face.

He leant into your palm and pulled away, giving you a loving smile.

You gave one back, leaning up to quickly kiss him again.

“Lance?”

He hummed.

“I love you.”

“I love you to.”

He opened the car door for you and let you get in before closing it and making his way to the drivers side.

You were an absolute genius.

And the best part?

You were his genius, you were his, he didn’t have to worry you were with him because he was in the FBI or because you thought he was a pushover or anything like that.

You were with him because you loved every single aspect about him, you loved the fact he was so kind, and caring and gentle, and he had never had a love like that.

He knew there was still a lot to learn about you, and he knew sometimes it would be challenging given both of your jobs, but he knew that when he pictured himself old and grey somewhere, you were there by his side

[cupidsworstcrime]

Lance Sweets with dacryphilia.... that's it.... that's the ask!!!

saw the head canon and ran with it? lol bet - just a short little imagine

"Shh," he interrupted, his fingers pressing against your lips. "No need for words. Just let me see you, truly see you."

The tears continued to fall, and Sweets' smile grew a bit wider. He cradled your face with both hands now, his touch possessive and invasive. "That's it," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

Sweets' eyes glowed with satisfaction. "So beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. "I could watch you cry forever."

[icantthinkofanythingcool3]

Sessions

This is probably going to be only for a very niche part of the internet, but I'm obsessed with Bones again at the moment so here ya go.

Agent Y/n is an FBI agent that occasionally works with Booth, Bones, and the team. She has become good friends with Sweets, and Angela. After an extra brutal case that involved a serial killer and an intense fixation on Agent Y/n herself, Y/n needs mandated counseling from her favorite psychologist. The following are the sessions that document the beginning of something more than a professional or even friendly relationship.  

Session 1

“For the record, I think this is totally unnecessary.” Y/n sighed. 

“I do not agree. You’ve been through a traumatizing experience.” 

“How is this any more traumatizing than the events I witness on a day-to-day basis. This is literally my job Lance.” 

“It’s not everyday that a killer is specifically targeting you y/n, so, once again, I disagree. Plus it’s mandated by the FBI, so you don’t really have a choice.” Lance said matter of factly, “I’ll take your extreme eye roll as acceptance. You know some people say that your eyes could get stuck that way.” 

“Shut up and do your psycho shit.” 

“There’s nothing for me to do, we just need to talk. We talk all the time, what’s the problem now?” 

“We talk as friends, this is not us talking as friends Lance, this is some bullshit test to see if I’m still capable of doing my job. I don’t think it’s fair to me to think that just because some asshole murderer decided to set his sights on me means that I suddenly don’t have the ability to do my damn job anymore!” 

“Y/N that’s, well that’s actually an accurate depiction so I can’t debate that. But I want you to understand it’s not me personally that feels like that. It’s the men upstairs, as one would say, you can still talk to me.” 

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Y/n smirked at him

“Well, if I thought this could actually be a problem I absolutely would have suggested that you go to a different psychologist, but I don’t think it’s that kind of problem. I still think you need to talk to someone though.” 

“Ehh, I think we need to talk more about how you’re totally showing favoritism here.”

“Let’s talk about that after we talk about you, yeah?”

 “If you insist, Dr. Sweets.”

Session 2 “How many more of these do we have to do?” Y/n complained. 

“This is only session number two y/n, I think you know it’s going to take more than that. I would like to discuss how you’re feeling now. It’s been exactly 10 days since he was caught.” 

“Well, I would still like to talk about how you’re showing immense favoritism by seeing me as a patient since we’re quote, unquote friends.”

“Woah, woah, now that makes it seem like you don’t think we’re friends.” 

“Now, I didn’t say that, but I would like to dissect why that was your immediate thought.” 

“Oh, so now you’re the psychologist, huh?” Lance asked, quietly laughing at y/n. 

“Yes, you know what. I think I would like to switch professions…would you mind switching seats with me? I think it’s time for me to take over this session.”  

“You know what, sure. I think this will be good for my analysis. Go ahead there y/n, take your new seat.”

 “So Mr. Sweets-”

“Woah, woah so in your fantasy my degrees suddenly fail to exist?”

“Shhhhhh, we’re doing things my way now, remember? So, Mr. Sweets, why is it that you seem to be showing me favoritism?” 

“Well technically, how can I be showing favoritism if, in this fantasy, you have taken away my degrees therefore I would have no-”

“Lance!!!!! You are not making this fun for me!!!! Can you stop with your logic please and just answer my question?! Why are you avoiding the answer?” Y/n said half joking, but also half annoyed at him for not letting her have any fun. 

“Okay, okay. Well, Dr. y/l/n, I suppose I show you favoritism because you’re one of my favorite people. Some may say, as I’m sure you know with your vast knowledge of psychology and all the varying fields, that I’ve been creating my own family since my parents died. I consider you one of those people.”

 “Wow…that’s. I…don’t….that’s probably one of the most honest and sweetest things anyone has ever said to me… As a friend, not as a psychologist of my vast knowledge, will you tell me about them? About your parents?” 

“Of course I will.” 

Session 3

“Y/n are we finally going to discuss what we’re here to talk about?” 

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Do you think that maybe it means something that you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“No, I just don’t wanna.”

“Y/n, come on. The longer this drags out the longer we have to keep doing these sessions.” 

“Well maybe I like the sessions and I don’t want them to end.” 

“Well, you know they don’t have to, right? Just because we speak about what we have to discuss doesn't mean that we have to stop having the sessions, just that I can finally sign off on the papers your bosses are asking for. If we can get through this we can talk about whatever you want in the next session, maybe even me again if that’s what you would prefer.” 

“Fine, but I just want to say that I am doing this entirely against my will…”

“I will definitely put that on the record.” 

“I guess what I feel is…not safe. I don’t feel safe at my house, I don’t feel safe at work, I don’t feel safe in the field. Honestly, the only place I feel safe is here. I guess that’s why I don’t want these meetings to end. See there goes my vast psychological knowledge at work.”

There was a moment of silence where y/n said, “See this is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything. Your face looks sad, like you’re pitying me right now.” 

“I’m not pitying you, y/n. That’s not what I'm feeling right now. I’m feeling sad for someone I care about because they just told me they don’t feel safe anymore. I’m frustrated that you can’t function in life without being scared. I’m angry that some maniac decided to set his sights on you and now you’re not who you were before. I’m just pissed, I’m…I don’t even know.” 

“I think you’re more angry than I am. Can’t you take some comfort that I find some solace in here with you?” 

“Well, I mean yeah, but it doesn’t make me any less angry. Why…why do you feel safe here?”

“I don’t know. I mean I guess because well first off, you obviously. Talking to you makes me feel like I don’t have anything to worry about. It’s also a small office, only one access point, so logically I have a better chance of protecting myself.” 

“I don’t like that, but I can understand it. I wish that you didn’t have to feel like that.” Lance said, putting his notebook down and moving next to y/n on the couch. 

“Not very psychologist-like of you, Lance.”

“You’re right, but very friend-like of me. That’s what’s more important right now I believe.” 

“Well thank you for being my friend. I…I…uhh really appreciate that. I appreciate you.” 

Session 4

“Sooooooo, you said we can talk about you this time, right??”

“If you’re so inclined, I still think we should talk about you though.” 

“I just think that you want to avoid being psycho-analyzed like you do to everyone who sits on this couch.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair.” 

“I think it’s very fair. Anywhooooooooo, tell me more about what you were like as a kid.”

“Oh so now you’re going to delve into my childhood trauma?” 

“I mean yes that was the plan, but you seem to have uncovered it way too soon. See no fun.” 

“I already told you about growing up with my parents. Dissect from that what you will.”

“Well yeah, but what were you like, 6 or 7? What about before that? And what about your biological parents? Did you know anything about them?” 

“It’s not really something I want to get into y/n.” 

“Come on, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. We can go question for question.” 

“Y/n. I said I do not want to talk about it! THAT’S IT.” Lance said angrily. 

“Lance, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how serious it was. Really, I’m sorry for pushing. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“No, y/n, it’s me. God, I’m such an asshole. It just…well it wasn’t a good time before I got adopted by my parents. I didn’t feel safe before them. That’s…that’s all I want to say.” 

“Understood. I’m sorry that you had to go through that, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt you now, let alone little 6 year old you with a sweet little baby face. You know your last name actually fits you very well, kinda like fate if you ask me.” 

“That’s very kind y/n. Thank you, I appreciate it.” Sweets smiled at y/n. 

“Just being a friend, nothing to thank me for here.” 

Session 5

“So, I’ve come to a conclusion.” Y/n said, smiling cheekily to Lance.

“Oh, and what’s that?” 

“You’re literally being paid to sit here and talk to your best friend. That’s like a totally cushy gig.” 

“Oh, you’re my best friend?”

“I mean yes. Clearly, we are definitely best friends. It's, like, completely obvious.” 

“I was unaware so thank you for informing me of that.” 

“Lance, come on. You totally know we’re best friends. Don’t try to hide it. You have no reason to be embarrassed, you know, I’m a pretty cool person.” 

“Well, you are a pretty cool person. And like I said previously, I do consider you part of the family I’ve made. I guess it is obvious we’re best friends, silly me for not recognizing it earlier.” 

“I like talking to you Lance.”

“I like talking to you as well, y/n.” 

Session 6

“Y/n.” 

“Woah, you sound serious.”

“I am, there’s something I have to talk to you about.” 

“Okay, I’m listening.” 

“I can’t be your psychologist anymore.” 

“Woah, wait, what. What do you mean? Where is this coming from? Lance, did I do something? Say something?”

“Y/n, it’s not about you. Well, I mean not like that. It’s nothing that you did, or said. I…I just. Well you were right before, this is kind of a conflict of interest. Professionally, I shouldn’t be seeing you. It’s not right.” 

“Oh, I, uh…thanks for proving me right I guess. Um…I think I’m going to go now.” 

“No! Wait! I know you feel safe here, with me, in this room. We can still talk here, we can still have these conversations. I don’t want to take that away from you. I’m just recommending that I cannot adequately finish clearing you from what happened.”

“I don’t understand what’s changed suddenly. I brought this up weeks ago. I don’t want to go sit in someone else’s office and talk about this shit. I didn’t want to go through this in the first place. Lance, I don’t understand why you would do this. You know how hard this was for me, I can’t believe you would do this.” 

“Y/n, just trust me, it’s for the best.” 

“I don’t trust you right now. This isn’t what is best for me. I can’t believe this, I can’t believe yo-”

Lance cut y/n off, “Y/n I LOVE YOU…I…I am in freaking love with you and that’s why I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair to me either.” 

“Lance…I…you…I…” 

“I think you should leave now.”

“Wait, wait, no…I love you too. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I met you.” 

“y/n-”

“I’m serious. All of these sessions just confirmed it more for me. That’s why I felt safe here, with you. You make me feel like I don’t have to worry or be scared anymore.” 

“Y/n, I…you make… you’re-” 

“Just shut up and kiss me already.” Y/n said, already leaning in to place her lips on his.

[yellow-cr0w]

Disaster

Fandom: Bones (2005)

Pairing: Lance Sweets x Reader

Rating: Teen & Up

Warnings: Severe injury and blood loss, description of an attack with a deadly weapon. I’m very new at writing so be warned that there might be other things that I didn’t think to include.

Description: I really really want to write a long term slow burn fanfic for Sweets, this is the first scene that I had fully formed in my head (even though it occurs MUCH later in the plot, so I supposed I’m spoiling the fanfic for everyone rn but you’ll probably forget this happened by the time I get around to writing it). At this point Sweets and the OC, Julia have been friends for years and moved in together after he dumped Daisy and stayed with Booth and Brennan for a while. I forget which serial killer was in this era but I’m going to be rewatching the entire show while I write so this scene will also be heavily edited later once I get to that part of the plot. 

Let me know if you have any suggestions since I haven’t written anything in a LONG time and this is my first ever fanfic that I’ve actually put on the internet!

I hope you enjoy! :)

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Distracted by my thoughts, I stepped into the shower, the heat helping ease the tension from today. Sitting down to let the near-boiling water beat down onto the top of my head, I replayed earlier events.

A faint noise ripped me from my thoughts.

“Sweets? Is that you?” I stood, it should be way too early for him to be back home - unless I had been in the shower longer than I thought. He shouldn’t be home for another two hours at least, but maybe I had lost track of time. I winced, the water bill was gonna be high this month if that was the case.

Hands trembling, I reached to turn off the water.

Click

The lights were out. I held my breath, frozen in place under the heated water.

Suddenly, the shower curtain was ripped open. The beginning of a scream left me before my mouth was covered. The weak light from the little toy nightlight outlined the horror in front of me. I blindly scratched at the silhouette - managing to land a few feeble hits until a sucker punch landed on my right side. The rough hand released my mouth and I was shoved hard into the tile wall.

The last thing I remembered was the ground disappearing from underneath my feet, and the quiet click of the light turning on.

I woke up shivering.

The freezing cold water contrasted the dull, crippling, warmth on my right side. I blinked at the filtered light coming from the closed shower curtain.

How long had I been here? My vision spun as I tried to push myself up on shaking hands to turn off the water. A spot just above my ear pounded. My stomach lurched and I resigned myself to leaning back and shivering.

I opened my eyes to the sound of the front door. 

Maybe whoever did this to me came back to finish me off. Maybe it was-

“Sweets,” my voice croaked out. He wasn’t going to hear me. Hell, I could barely hear myself. I tried again, sounding even weaker than the first time.

I closed my eyes again, praying to whatever, whoever, inhabited the sky that he would decide to use our apartment’s one and only bathroom soon. Maybe he would be too tired to brush his teeth before bed. Maybe he wouldn’t risk coming in with the shower running. Maybe he didn’t hear the water at all.

“Jules? You didn’t slip and fall down the drain did you?”

A small cry left my throat in my attempt to call for help.

Please, I silently begged.

“Are you okay in there?” A gentle knock along with a pause, “Julia?”

Come in.

The creak of the door and gentle footsteps pushed me to try again.

”Help… please.”

The shower curtain was hesitantly pushed open and I came face to face with a wide-eyed Sweets. He muttered expletives under his breath, rushing to turn off the freezing water and start grabbing several towels from the bathroom closet. He stumbled over himself trying to get a towel to lay flat on the bathroom floor before moving to cover my exposed body.

“-crap crap crap, how long have you been here? Do you know how much blood you’ve lost?” He leaned over the side of the tub. His eyes frantically searched my face.

“I’m not bleedi-“ I slurred out, my words fading into a cry as his hands pressed the rough fabric into my side. High pitched ringing blinded me and a furious coil rose into my throat.

“-s okay. You’re okay, stay with me.” A small tapping on my cheek prompted me to blearily open my eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“Don’t know.” A heavy lead filled my muscles, keeping me from shivering any longer. “-m so cold. I just woke up.”

“I’m gonna put you on the floor until the paramedics arrive, okay? You’re gonna be fine-“ Sweets repeated more soft encouragements as he carefully moved his arms under my bare upper back and just under my thighs. I sighed in relief as the hard curves of the tub no longer pressed into my bones. He lifted me like I was made of paper thin porcelain that would shatter at the slightest bump.

“You smell nice.” My head rag dolled against his arm, and I caught the hint of the earthy cologne he aways wore. “Why’re all the colors weird.”

My mouth felt funny.

Everything feels funny. Half of a laugh slipped out.

Sweets muttered more curses as he kneed next to me. “-k you’re in shock.” One of his hand pressed hard on my side as he desperately fumbled to release his phone from his pocket. “It’s going to be okay- I’m calling 911 they’re going to help you.” He blinked rapidly, phone shaking and jerking with each beep of the keypad. “-you’re going to be okay. You’re going to be oka- COME ON answer the phone.” The pressure on my side increased.

“Lance,” I faintly tugged on his dress pants. I heard the faint noise of the 911 operator picking up and getting cut off in their standard introduction by Sweets speaking faster than I could register. I repeated myself, losing my grip on the fabric. Beautiful, wild eyes ripped away from the blood soaked towel to look at me.

“I’m in love with you.”

A sob broke out of his mouth as he switched the phone to speaker and threw it down onto the tile. He used both hands to stop the bleeding, now blubbering our address to the operator.

His left hand broke away and moved to cup my face. I leaned into his touch, the dark edges of my vision creeping to the center.

It feels so nice.

“Don’t cry.” I mumbled, vision swirling as I tried to fight it and focus on what he was saying.

“Jules. Julia, no- stay with- NO.”

Too bright, I tried to say.

Hurts.

I’m so tired.

I’m sorry Lance.

[retrointhenow]

Match Maker II Lance Sweets X Reader

A/N : I think we need some more Lance Sweets fics around here, so this is my official attempt :))

--

Dr. Sweets could be anything he wanted. He could get you to do anything. Which is why you were a squint and not an Agent. Say the right thing to you and you do whatever was needed. Lance knew it.

"Y/n! Glad I caught you!" Sweets stopped you before entering Booth's office. "Hey Lance. What can I do for you?" You had a long-time crush on the shrink, you assumed he knew. Being a psychologist and all. "I have the files from the Alabama case analyzed. Mind delivering them to Brennan when you head back?" He flashed his pearly whites at you. "Of course! Anything for you." You lightly flirted. Normally you'd clam up around Sweets and make a complete fool of yourself, but today you must have had a newfound confidence. "A darling you are." He disappeared down the hall to his office. Your heart fluttered; he called you darling.

"You are so easy Y/n." Booth chuckled, peaking his head out of his office. You frowned and looked at the agent. "How so?" Booth motioned for you to enter his office, closing the glass door once you did. You took in his office, looking at the hockey photo behind his desk and the photos of Parker. "You fold at the sight of him. Your demeanor changes when he enters the room. It's amazing how you got through that short conversation with him." You face flushed then blushed instantly. "I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But Sweets is totally oblivious to you." He opened emails on his computer. You shook your head. "Sweets wouldn't. It's just a harmless crush. I'll get over it by the time the snow thaws." You shrugged and went to the door. "I might not be a psychologist, but I can pick up on body language, Sweets doesn't reciprocate." You held onto the file Sweets gave you earlier and headed to the Jeffersonian.

You swiped your key card to enter the forensics platform to hand Brennan the folder. "The smells never get easier, do they?" You asked to no one in particular. "Not really." Angela laughed and pulled up photos of magnified bone chips. You studied them for a few minutes before looking back at the skeleton of the table. You asked Angela to zoom into the shins. There was still a few bits of muscle and flesh covering the body. "That looks like shin splints does it not?" You asked Cam. "Yeah, it does. Good job Miss L/n." "I know a lot of girls in my high school got shin splints during track. Coming off winter sports or an off season. They're cause from overworking or changing their exercise routine." You smiled proudly. Brennan nodded and looked at the exposed bones. "Very well." You ran back and forth between the bone room and Hodgins's lab trying to solve this murder.

"Ah Mrs. Sweets. What can I do for you this time." Hodgins smirked looking into his microscope. "W-what?" You fumbled. "I uh brought you some soil samples found in the muscles." You shook it off. Maybe you just misheard him. He grabbed the empty Petri dish from you and ran it through his machines. "It's gonna take a few minutes. So, you and Sweets huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "I have no idea what you're talking about. There's nothing between us." You shifted uncomfortably. He nodded skeptically. His screen dinged with the results from the soils. "I'll leave you to your work." You quickly got away from the scientist.

"Alright squinty! Come on, Parker wants to see you." Booth ran into the bone room clapping his hand. You racked your mind for why Parker would wanna see you of all people. You're just a squintern. You only had a few real conversations with Parker when you first started at the Jeffersonian. He was a sweet kid, but he could be something else, either way you followed Booth to the Royal Diner.

"Y/n!" Parker ran up and hugged you. You hugged the young boy back and ruffled his hair. "Hey buddy!" Your smile quickly dropped when you saw Sweets sitting at the table. "What's he doing here?" You looked at Seeley panicking. Seeley threw his hands up in defense. "Parker invited him. Blame the kid not me." He slid into the seat next to Parker, forcing you to sit with Sweets. You may have mentioned to Parker that you had a slight crush on the shrink, but that was ages ago.

"Hey Y/n. Thank you again for running those papers for me." Sweets smiled. God you could have melted right there. "Oh yeah, of course." You chuckled and blushed. Seeley smirked. Go figure you couldn't have the confidence you did earlier when speaking to Lance.

"So, Dr. Sweets." Parker started. "Why doesn't my dad have a girlfriend yet." He asked innocently. You and Booth choked on your food / drink. You were laughing, Booth was embarrassed. "Parker!" Booth scolded. "Uh well. I think maybe you dad is just waiting for the right person to come along." Sweets tried not to offend Booth. He took it lightly. Parker smiled at you before asking Sweets, "Do you have a girlfriend?" Lance set his fork down and looked at the young boy. "I don't." You could have sworn he glanced at you. "Well, what about you Y/n? Do you have a boyfriend yet?" You took a deep breath. "No Parker I don't. The last one wasn't cool." You grimaced at the thought. A shit eating grin spread across his face; Seeley looked down proudly at his son. "So why don't you two get together then?" Sweets spit out his water and you turning a burning red.

"Well, uh I-" You started, completely flustered. You didn't imagine Parker trying to set you up or whatever. "Uhm, I think it would be a conflict of-" Lance started, focusing on you. "I can tell that Y/n likes you, and I think you like her too. I may be a kid, but I can definitely tell these things."

You and Sweets looked at each other for the first time during the outing. Your face still fiery red and his turning a light shade of pink. The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. You broke contact and looked back at Parker. "Yeah uh, respectfully, you're still just a kid Parker." You got up and hurried out of the Diner. Embarrassment flooded your whole body; you could not believe Parker. Sure, he was a kid, but he had no idea what he was doing.

"So, you just walked out?!" Angela shouted as you laid on her couch. "What was I supposed to do Ange? Admit that I like Sweets? No way." You laughed. You could imagine him turning you down and having to avoid him the rest of your life. "Sweetie, he smiled at you, that's gotta mean something." She played on the Angelatron.

You groaned and threw your hands over your face. "You know what it means? It means that Parker made me look like a fool and now Sweets has probably already done his shrink stuff on me and has made a pros and cons list. Let's face it. I have no realistic chance with someone as smart as Lance." "I beg to differ." You shot up as Sweets walked into Angela's room. He looked at her, asking her for a moment alone. She smiled at you and scurried out. "Don't- run out on me. Please." You bit down on your lip and avoided eye contact yet again. "What do you want?" You stood up and walked around the room. There was no way you were going to sit still. "Can we talk?" His eyes followed your body around the room. "Nothing to talk about." You deflected his questions. He analyzed your emotions and movements as you reacted to his questions.

"There's not need to be embarrassed or humiliated Y/n." "Not be embarrassed? Really? Parker basically outed me about my feelings about you. And you totally did your shrink shit." Your body shook with nervous energy. "I pray to my spirits and ghosts that you'd never have to find out. Because you know what's worse than you knowing? It's you rejecting me, and then I'd have to see you every day until one of us moves on or does something else. And I can't handle that." He grazed over to where you were standing and took your hands into his own, he tilted your head up to meet his eyes.

"Look at me." His voice was soft and sweet. You dragged your eyes to meet his. "I am not going to shrink you or make a list of pros and cons about you, you certainly don't have to pray to your supernatural spirits, and more importantly I'm not going to reject you." Your body relaxed as his arm held your body. Still tense in some parts, not completely believing in him yet. "What are you saying?" You voice was just above a whisper. Eyes flickering between his gorgeous eyes. His lips curled into a smile, and he leaned down to your height.

"What I'm saying, Y/n, is that I like you. That I want to give us a chance." His lips connected with yours. You could have stayed like that for forever. His hand cupped your cheek and the other remained on your waist. Your hand laid on his neck and your opposite held onto his bicep. The only thing that pulled you away was a sudden roar of applause. Everyone from the Jeffersonian squints team, Booth, and Parker were cheering.

"It's about time." Clark exclaimed. You all looked at him with amusement. "I pay attention and keep my thoughts to myself." He shrugged and went back to the forensic platform. Sweets wrapped his arm around your waist and smiled down at you. You smiled back at Parker and mouthed 'thank you', he was pretty good at playing match maker.

[egophiliac]

I feel like F/P/S was still a pretty weird one, even by Lance's standards.

sorry for (in an ironic twist) not doing much Ride Kamens art now that it's actually started; I've been pretty slow going through it and I feel weird posting about things I'm not caught up on! though I'm. definitely gonna have to set aside some time to actually get through episode 13, after what they posted today. (w-what did they do to my Leon) (NOBODY TELL ME I HAVE TO FIND OUT ON MY OWN) (LEOOOOOOOON)

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

can I please get headcannons for the bones boys taking you out on a first date? Thank you so much for writing for bones!

A/N: anything for my bones boys

Booth would definitely do something unconventional. Something fun, unexpected, something that was a bit competitive, but mostly something where he could show off.

"Really?" you almost laughed as you stood in front of the entrance. "The fair?"

"Oh, come on. When was the last time you did something like this?" He nudged you on your shoulder, wagging his eyebrows at you.

He would then proceed to win you a giant stuffed bear at the duck shoot.

"What?" he shrugged nonchalantly, "Like's hard?"

"Not for you apparently," you teased. "Though I expect being a ranger turned FBI agent probably helps."

You started walking backwards enjoying the challenging look in his eyes.

"Are you trying to rial me up?" he questioned, smirking at you.

You leaned in close to him, enjoying the way his breathing increased. "Depends, how easy do you fluster?"

You pulled away, making your way towards the ring toss.

"Oh, I see how it is," Booth shouted as he trailed after you, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

The first date with Booth would solely about getting to know you, making you laugh, and gauging just how comfortable he could be around you. It would absolutely end with him being a giant tease and kissing you on the corner of your mouth or your temple.

Hodgins, rich (so rich he doesn't even know how rich), Hodgins would try and impress you. At least that was his first thought. Private and obscenely expensive dinner? Check. Expensive car to get you there? Check.

But like many things in Jack's life, it never really went according to plan.

"Oh, come on!" Jack grumbled at the flat tire. "I just had the car serviced. I can't believe this."

It was only when you started laughing that he relaxed enough to look at you.

"What?" He asked a bit in disbelief. Crushing thoughts about how this was the worst first date to never actually even start diminished at the sight your smile.

"I don't think I've seen you this stressed since you tried to hide TNT experiment from Cam," you said laughter dying down.

"Hey, that civil war exhibit didn't need it as much as us," he reasoned, a smile now stretching across his own face as he leaned against his car.

You mirrored his movements, shoulder pressed against his as you leaned against the car.

"I wanted this to be perfect. But just about everything seems to have gone wrong."

"Well, it's a good thing the night isn't over yet," you looked around. "You know, I think we're close to the diner."

"You can't be serious," he laughed. A mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Dead. I never needed anything fancy anyways - just you Jack."

From that moment, he knew that he wasn't ever going to mess it up. You were it for him.

Sweets would want to do anything where the two of you could just talk. We know he's done a pottery class before so something along those lines. Really anything where he got to just look at you with a big grin on his face and listen to every word that came out of your mouth.

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"Your chicken is burning."

"Oh, shit."

You let out a laugh that made him forget all about the charred chicken. He, in hindsight, should have known better than to plan a cooking class as your first date. Not when you distracted him so easily he could chop a finger off. Definitely not his best idea.

"Here, we can just share mine," you said as you fed him some of your food. All teasing smiles and delicious prolonged eye contact.

Definitely not his worst date idea.

Wendell is one for simplicity. He wants to get to know you, but he also doesn't want to go overboard and scare you off. He'd plan for a simple dinner (your pick) and make a walk around the city.

The street lights illuminated the city, a cool breeze rushing past you. You tried your best not to seem cold - you'd opted for looks- not practically. Now you were paying the price for it.

A sudden rush of warm hit you, you looked up at Wendell who'd wordlessly placed his jacket over your shoulders.

"Wendell-"

"Don't even mention it. Can't have you getting sick now, can I?" He gently nudged your shoulder with his own as you walked side by side. "Wouldn't want you to rain check the next date."

"The next one?" you prodded - warmth washing over your cheeks. "Someone is presumptuous," you teased.

"Nah, just optimistic," He smiled brightly at you. "So, what do ya say?"

"I think your odds are looking pretty good," you looped your arm to hold on to his.

Wendell wouldn't necessarily consider himself a betting man, but he'd say he won out on this one.

Vincent was quiet sure how he'd managed it. It was all a bit of blur if he was honest. One second you both were discussing how no number before a thousand contains the letter a, and the next he had asked you out. And you'd said yes.

He almost thought he'd dreampt it, really. You'd had to call out his name twice before he blinked himself back into reality.

Now he stood in front of your door holding flowers that were wilting away by the second - he swore he'd just gotten them and they looked pristine.

He let out a sigh, knuckles frozen over the door. This would be, fine. You already said yes. Oh, God.

Knuckles knocking against the door, he frantically smoothed out his hair.

"Vincent!"

You leaned in for a hug, crushing the flowers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. You pulled away giving him this brilliant smile that put him at ease.

"Are those for me?"

"Wha- yes. Yes, they are for you." He handed you the roses. "Did you know over 30,000 rose varieties exist today?"

You let out a small laugh, eyes still sparkling. "I didn't, but thank you for telling me."

That smile of your really did put him at ease. This would be fine - this would be great - because he was with you.

When Colin asked you to go out with him to the Slasherthon at the local movie theater he wasn't actually sure you'd say yes. But he figured the worst you could say was no - or you know, laugh at him until he fell into an endless abyss of shame.

Either would be fine.

He expected the abyss.

He did not expect you to say yes. Let alone actually show up. But there you were in a Jason Voorhees t-shirt all smiles as he walked up to you.

"Are you ready for lots of gore and eating our weight in popcorn?" You asked practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. He'd never seen anything more lively or beautiful in his life.

"A person after my own heart," he said dramatically - hand placed over his own heart.

"Come on, Colin," you grabbed his hand pulling him into the theater. As you led him away he realized the abyss option would have been much worse than he had anticipated.

You were a light shining into his abyss.

Aubrey would take you to a nice sit down restaurant. He spent the better half of the week trying to decide where exactly to take you. He'd finally settled on a restaurant you had been talking about trying for a month now.

"Aubrey, how did you know I wanted to eat here?" You asked, leaning forward. Your eyes excitedly bouncing between the menu and Aubrey.

"You've been talking about it," he shrugged, trying his hardest to be nonchalant about it.

"Aubrey- I mentioned it once, like, a month ago." You laughed a bit in disbelief.

"And?"

"And how do you remember something like that?"

"It sounded important to you, why wouldn't I want to remember it?"

He'd be lying if he didn't say he enjoyed that look on your face. A mixture of disbelief and being heard - actually heard.

"Now, I'm thinking we go family style on this bad boy and see what all the fuss is about." Aubrey leaned forward, both of you so close to the other. If the flowers in the middle of the table weren't in the way he just might have leaned in for kiss.

"You sure you can leave some food for me?" You teased, your eyes sparkling in a way that made Aubrey realize he never wanted to see your eyes without it.

"Sweetheart, I'd leave all of it for you if you asked."

"Liar," you laughed.

"Alright some of it, but that's better than none!"

[shelbgrey]

Comedy short: who broke the coffee pot?(Bones)

Paring: reader x jeffersonian staff

Summary: cam wants to know who broke the coffee pot.

A/n: bones requests are open!

MasterList

Cam called a staff meeting today... No one would have ever predicted that it would be about a broken coffee pot. Not a corpse, not a piece of broken bone, but a broken pot.

They all stood around the broken coffee pot confused, in the coffee maker it's self was large beaker from the lab in place of the pot. All of us minus Bones, she was aggravated she was taken away from her work for this.

“So...” Cam said crossing her arms “Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.” she said softly looking at everyone.

Everyone stayed silent as Seeley and Lance walked in confused. Lance walked up next to y/n looking at the broken glass. Before he could ask what happened y/n sighed when she saw everyone's silent panic and spoke up.

“...I did. I broke it.” y/n said trying to save who's ever ass broke it.

Cam shook her head and sighed “No. No you didn't, you don't even drink coffee. Dr. Hodgins?”

Jack looked insulted that she would even mention him, did he not relize how many beakers he's broken in the Lab? “Don't look at me. Look at Wendell”

The blond look bewildered and gave Jack a dirty look before turning to Cam. “What?! I didn't break it.”

Jack hummed and looked at Cam like he cracked the case “Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?”

Wendell started to get annoyed, he rubbed his fave then pointed to the broken glass “Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.”

Jack shrugged “Suspicious.”

“No, it's not!” Wendell said shaking his head. Cam, who just wanted an answer sighed right back and looked towards Seeley who interjected.

“If it matters, probably not, but Lance was the last one to use it.” y/n and Lance both looked at him shocked.

“Liar! I don't even work here!” Lance said stepping away from the group.

“Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart last night?” Seeley asked in joking matter, he wasn't really trying to blame him.

“Because Brennan asked me to get her a cup of coffee while I got y/n her tea. They were both working late last Everyone knows that, Booth” Lance quickly said and his story check out.

Angela sighed and put her hands up “Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Cam”

Cam stoped her and held up the lose handle “No! Who broke it!?”

Everyone stayed quiet, they all shared glances just waiting for someone to crack. Jack's eyes fell on Bones who was now checking her watch.

Jack glanced at Cam “Cam Brennan's been awfully quiet.”

Bones gasped, shocked anyone would accuse her of such accusations “really Dr. Hodgins?!”

Everyone starts arguing after that, the squints and the scientists that is. Lance and Seeley stared, still confused on what just happened. Cam just snickered and walked over to the boys. “I broke it by accident. It burned my hand so I punched it.”

Seeley and Lance started chuckling when they saw y/n throw a hand full of coffee stirrers at Wendell and Jack.

Seeley chuckled. “I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a skull on a stick.”

*Later at the Bureau*

“crap!” James sighed as the sound of glass shattering filled his ears, he quickly looked around for witness hoping no one saw him break the coffee pot in the break room.

Caroline sighed and pulled out her phone from a distance, James didn't see her dialing Cam's number. “Cam, tell me how you handled the coffee pot situation at the jeffersonian”

[scrollonso]

"i'm the captain, and you can be the deputy."

"i'm really glad you think i'm so funny!"

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

and i'll find strength in pain

fandom: Bones (TV)

pairing: Lance Sweets & Reader

summary: You were the victim of a violent attack a few weeks ago. Agent Booth has been a comfort for you, but he's out of his depth. He suggests you visit Dr. Sweets to talk about what happened to you.

tags/warnings: rape aftermath/recovery (implied), sh, anxiety, panic attacks, dissociation, emotional hurt/comfort, therapy

word count: 3334

a/n: this one's for all the people who are still thinking about lance sweets 10 years later and who, to this day, refuse to watch ep 10x1. if i don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist

There’s a plaque on the door. It reads 2475, DR. LANCE SWEETS, Clinical Psychologist. You practically have the words memorized. You’ve been standing here for nearly five minutes, working up the courage to knock. Every time you raise your fist to do so, it trembles so violently that you drop it again. Agent Booth’s words ring in your ears from when he dropped you off:

Look for office 2475. Sweets will be able to help you.

Sweets will be able to help you.

Can anyone really help you though?

It’s been 2 weeks since the attack, and the five men who cornered you in that alley still haven’t been found. Your skin still prickles with the phantom of their touch. Every time you close your eyes, you see their sneering faces, their bulging eyes. You can’t walk home from work anymore. You can’t even drive past the alley without having to pull over and take 10 deep breaths, counting in for 3, out for 3.

How could anyone, anyone, help you with that?

Agent Booth has been kind so far. He’s not on your case, since it’s technically the state’s responsibility, but he’s the one who found you that night. He’s the one who drove you to the hospital while you were unconscious, stayed until you were awake. He wasn’t even deterred when you scrambled away from him, the sight of another man’s face leaving you panicking. He sat calmly and reassured you that you were safe and left his phone number on a napkin on your bedside table, along with a scrawled note, reading:

Call if you need anything. I can help you file a case.

You’d taken him up on the offer, calling the next day. He helped you make a report with the state, sat with you while you described your attackers to the forensic sketch artist. Although he’s not the most equipped to handle your moments of panic, never quite sure what to do, he still sits with you and talks you through it. Eventually, though, he must have realized he was out of his depth, because he referred you here.

To a psychologist.

For whatever reason, it’s ingrained in your mind that seeing a psychologist means you’re broken. You don’t want to think that way, but it’s hard not to. After what you went through, it’s easy to believe such things about yourself. Broken. Impure. Damaged.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and suck in a deep breath. You wonder if Dr. Sweets knows you’re standing out here. The embarrassment of that thought is finally what allows you to work up the courage to knock. Three quiet taps on the door.

“Come in,” a voice responds.

You open the door slowly and peek around the edge. “Are you… Dr. Sweets?”

The man looks up from his desk. You’re taken aback by how young he is. Surely this isn’t the FBI psychologist? He’s so… well, young. Still, it’s better than some middle-aged man, someone like the men who attacked you-

You shake yourself and step inside as he responds. “That would be me.” His smile is gentle and reassuring. “Are you Y/N?”

You nod, stopping just inside the door. You’re unsure of where to go – there’s a couch and a chair facing it, but there’s also a chair in front of his desk where he sits… Which one? Where do you go? You stand awkwardly, waiting for some sort of direction.

Dr. Sweets stands, smoothing out his suit jacket. “Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the couch.

A swell of gratitude washes over you at his clear instruction. You seat yourself gingerly on the edge of the cushion, locking your hands together in front of you. Dr. Sweets takes the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. He observes you for a moment, eyes searching, and you shrink into yourself a bit. It feels exposing to be in front of him, like he can see all your secrets without you saying anything. Your eyes roam the room and the walls, trying to find something to distract yourself.

“How are you?” Sweets asks gently.

You swallow thickly and look down at your hands. “Fine… Agent Booth said I should talk to you.”

He nods. “Yes, he gave me a quick briefing on your situation. Is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

You avert your eyes, looking to the walls again. There’s a large window on the one to your right, but the blinds are closed. You wish he would open them so you could look somewhere else besides his probing eyes. “I guess so.” Your voice is shaky. You clear your throat to try to hide it.

Sweets, meanwhile, has been carefully taking in your body language and movement. He’d heard you hesitating outside the door, heard your soft pacing footsteps and rapid breathing. Since you walked in the door, he’s realized that he needs to take a gentle, soft approach with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far. From what Booth told him, the assault is still fresh in your memory. “First of all, I just want to say that you’re very brave for coming here. I know it can be scary to talk about these things and I’m very proud of you for taking this step. You’re safe here, and you’re totally in control. If you ever want to stop, or you don’t want to talk about something, you just say the word, alright?”

You nod, mostly subconsciously. His words feel empty, although there’s a sincerity too them. You just can’t bring yourself to believe him yet.

Sweets sees through you right away. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you believe that you’re safe here?”

Your response comes out as barely a whisper. “No…”

He nods gently. “Can you tell me why?”

You look down at your hands again, twisting them around the opposite wrists. The movement is soothing, grounding. “I don’t… feel safe anywhere. It’s too new. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there…” You close your eyes briefly, but snap them open again when disturbing images fill your head. “I can’t escape it. Everyone is someone who could hurt me…” You drift off as you realize how much you’re giving away. These are the things you’ve kept close to your chest; it feels wrong to be saying them to a stranger.

Sweets can tell immediately when you start to become more uncomfortable. He eyes your hands, watching your fidgeting. He takes a moment to think before speaking again. He must tread carefully; he can’t risk you shutting down before he’s even gotten a chance to talk to you. “How about we stick to yes/no questions for now? Would that be easier?”

You shrug, twisting your hands a bit more roughly as the images continue to plague you. “Sure.”

“Are you aware of your surroundings at all times? Always… looking for danger?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah…”

Sweets keeps his voice gentle and quiet, but his mind is racing. The psychologist in him is searching for coping mechanisms, for things to say that might help; the human in him is fighting the desire to reach out and just comfort you. “Do you experience nightmares? Bad dreams?”

You nod again, eyes flicking back to the closed window. “Yes.”

“Do you ever have panic attacks? Moments of overwhelming fear or anxiety?”

You look up at the ceiling, twisting your hands harder. It begins to burn, but the feeling is good. It keeps you in the here and now. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Sweets watches where your eyes move, sees how you avoid eye contact at all costs. His own eyes dart to your wrists. Your fidgeting has grown more aggressive. He can see where your skin is becoming red and irritated. He frowns slightly. “Can I see your wrists?”

Your movements suddenly still and you shake your head. Shame floods your face.

Sweets notices the quick change in your demeanor. “Okay, we don’t have to look at them. Does the twisting help?”

You nod. “It… feels good. Calming.”

Sweets nods and files this information away for later. He’s going to help you find some healthier coping mechanisms – you can’t keep hurting yourself to stay grounded. “I get that. Do you want a stress ball or something? Something so you’re not hurting yourself?” He can already predict your answer, but it’s worth a shot.

You shake your head and grip your hands on your wrists. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sweets leans back in his chair again. He wants to ask you about the assault, but you’re still so closed off. “Do you want some water? Maybe something else to drink, or eat?” He stands to retrieve a bottle for himself, hoping that it will make you feel more comfortable if he does it first.

Still, you shake your head. “I’m okay… do you have more questions?” You eyes drift to the door.

The young psychologist instantly notices your desire to leave and heads back to his seat, water in hand. He wants you to stay, wants you to start talking about this instead of bottling it up. “Couple more. Is that okay?”

You settle back onto the couch, hunching a bit to try and make yourself smaller. “Yeah…”

“You’re doing great,” Sweets offers you a reassuring smile although you’re not looking at him. “Can we talk about the attack?”

You hesitate, images flashing through your mind, before nodding. This is what you’re here for isn’t it? You can’t leave now. “What… what do you want to know?”

Sweets observes your closed-off posture, the hunch of your shoulders. This is going to take a while. He adjusts in his chair, trying to get comfortable while still staying professional. He speaks gently. “What were you doing before the attack?”

“Working,” you murmur. “I walked home.”

“Were you alone?”

You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. It had been so dark… The streetlight near the alley was out, you were walking through a shaded part of the sidewalk when they grabbed you…

Sweets watches as your eyes go glassy. He recognizes the beginning signs of dissociation and immediately works to pull you out of it, switching gears. “Where do you work?”

You shake yourself lightly and stare at the wall again. Your eyes settle on a divot in the paint, a spot where it’s been chipped away by a nail or something. “Newspaper… I’m a journalist.”

He nods and tilts his head at you, feeling a swell of pity. This really did a number on you. Booth described it to him, but he hadn’t gone into all the details… Clearly it was horrific if it’s causing you to be this dissociated and anxious. “That’s cool. Did you always want to be a journalist?”

For the first time, you meet his eyes. This topic is safe. These are things you can discuss. He offers you another reassuring smile as you shake your head. “I… wanted to be an astronaut. But my eyesight isn’t good enough.”

Sweets laughs lightly at the answer and you can’t help but crack your own small grin. His laugh is comforting, nothing at all like the men who attacked you… You shiver and refocus on his voice. “There’s a reason there aren’t many astronauts. Those requirements are very restrictive.” Sweets clears his throat and adjusts himself in his chair. You steel yourself, waiting for his next question. His distraction technique was effective, but now he has to get back to business. “So, you were walking home from work alone. What happened next?”

You swallow thickly and look back at the divot in the wall. Your hands go back to your wrists, feeling the warmth where you’ve managed to irritate your skin already. “I was walking by an alley… There were five men coming toward me. I was about to cross the street…” You suddenly are back in that moment, thinking the thoughts you were then. Your keys were clutched in one hand. Your other hand was shoved in your purse, gripping a small bottle of pepper spray. Your jaw was clenched, heart racing as you realized the danger you were in.

Sweets clears his throat to get your attention and you shake yourself out of your reverie. “You were about to cross the street. What then?”

“Um, they… they were quicker than me. They grabbed me and dragged me into the alley…” Your eyes go blank again. The divot in the wall seems to grow, a spec of grey that overtakes your vision. The world around you goes hazy. Sweets’s voice is a muffled background noise. Vaguely, you register the feeling of tears brimming in your eyes, of your hands twisting roughly against your wrists. The pain feels good, but it’s not enough.

Sweets watches closely, expecting you to continue, but then he notices the blank look on your face. You’ve gone completely still, save for your twisting hands. He observes you as you go pale, barely blinking. You’re completely shut down. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” He keeps his voice soft, gentle, trying not to scare you. He doesn’t know how far gone you are yet. He watches as your body begins to tremble, as your hands speed up in their motions. Your nails begin to catch against your skin, making harsh red lines across your wrists. Sweets knows he has to break you out of this, has to bring you back down to reality.

He stands slowly, walking around the coffee table to crouch in front of the couch where you sit. “Y/N. Listen to my voice. You’re safe here. You’re in my office at the FBI Headquarters. I’m Dr. Sweets, we’re here talking together. You’re safe, you’re not in danger anymore.” He keeps his voice level and soothing. He wants to reach out and touch you, but doesn’t want to jolt you. His eyes go back to your wrists, noticing how aggressively you’re scratching yourself. If you don’t come out of this soon, he will have to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Darling, listen to me.” The affectionate name slips out before he can stop himself. “Look at me if you can. You’re right here. You’re sitting on the couch in my office. You’re safe, I promise.” His words seem to be having no effect. If anything, your motions are becoming more frantic, your eyes more distant. Sweets sucks in a deep breath, hating what he has to do now.

He reaches out slowly to grip your wrists, wrenching them apart. You flinch at the touch, the first reaction he’s seen. He hates that it seems to be causing you more anguish, but you were near to drawing blood. He holds your wrists firmly, continuing to speak. “Listen, Y/N. I can’t let you hurt yourself. But you’re safe. Once you’re back with me, I’ll let you go, but you need to listen to me. You’re safe here. You’re not in any danger.” His voice breaks slightly on the words. He’s dealt with dissociation and panic attacks before, of course, but knowing the circumstances of yours makes it so much harder.

The wavering in his voice is what finally draws you back to reality. You blink slowly, and the divot on the wall shrinks back to where it belongs. Sweets’s voice becomes clearer, and you realize the firm grip on your wrists is his, not your attackers’. A choked sob forces itself from your throat as you look down at your joined hands. Suddenly your breaths come in gasps as you realize how deprived of oxygen you are.

Sweets loosens his grip a bit, realizing that you’re back with him. “There, shh. I have you.” He rubs soothing circles on your wrists, subtly reaching for your pulse with two fingers. It’s rapid, but steady. “You’re safe, I’ve got you. Deep breaths now.” He does some exaggerated breaths, trying to meet your gaze. You still stare at his hands on your own, but it’s not with glassy eyes. He lets out his own quiet sigh of relief.

You try to school your breathing, mimicking his slow breaths. Eventually, with his soft words and gentle coaching, you manage to soothe yourself.

Sweets finally relinquishes his hold on your hands, staying crouched in front of you. “There we are. Keep taking those deep breaths.”

You meet his eyes unsteadily. “I’m sorry,” the words come out quiet and broken.

Sweets shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s perfectly reasonable to have such a reaction.”

You clasp your hands together in your lap, staring at the red lines that now adorn your wrists. You’ve never irritated your skin so much, and you feel embarrassed to have done so in front of this psychologist.

He tries to meet your gaze, attempting to draw your eyes from the injuries. “Let’s take a break, yeah? We can try again another day.” He offers you a small smile.

You nod. “I think… that would best.” You feel shaky and off-balance from the panic attack.

Sweets stands, being careful not to tower over you. He heads back to the fridge, retrieving a water bottle for you and a small packet of crackers. He sets them on the couch next to you before returning to his chair. He makes a point not to look at you, not wanting you to feel cornered or judged.

You take a slow sip from the water, all of a sudden feeling parched. You’re not sure what to say, not sure if you should leave now, or if you should stay. When you’re done drinking, you set the bottle down again and look at your lap.

Sweets clears his throat quietly and leans forward again. “Feel free to hang out here as long as you need. If you want to keep talking, I’m just going to be at my desk, okay?”

You nod, grateful that he won’t be staring at you. You don’t feel quite steady enough to get up and drive home yet, so you settle back into the couch, taking slow sips from the water and nibbling on small bits of cracker. Sweets taps away on his computer, occasionally glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay.

The panic attack left you feeling exhausted, and you’re trying hard not to fall asleep, but the couch is very comfortable, and you somehow feel safe here. Your head keeps lolling to the side and you have to shake yourself to stay awake. Sweets looks up and catches this at one point. He smiles to himself and calls to you gently. “Rest. It’s okay; you’re safe. Do you want a blanket?”

You fidget with your hands again, stifling a yawn. You’re too tired to even try to protest, so you nod your head. He stands and retrieves a fluffy blanket from a nearby closet, handing it to you. You thank him and wrap it around yourself, settling more comfortably into the couch as he walks back to the desk.

The next time Sweets looks up, you’re curled up on your side on the couch, breathing deeply with your eyes closed. He smiles again, feeling honored that you feel safe enough in his presence to sleep. He shoots a quick text to Booth letting him know that you’re ready to be picked up. Booth of course wants to know how the session went, but Sweets leaves him on read. You can tell him yourself, if you feel comfortable enough to do so.

Although Sweets didn’t manage to get you to open up as much as he’d have liked, he truly didn’t expect to. You’ve been through hell, and it’s going to take a long time to walk out of that. Still, he feels he’s made progress. You trust him, even if it’s just a small amount.

He has a feeling he’ll be seeing you again very soon.

[bitchyfoxymama]

Seeley Booth Be Damned - Sweets x F!Reader

Warnings: over-protective brother Booth, fluff

A/n: rewatching Bones and I noticed the severe lack of Bones fanfiction so I'm making my own besties!!

...

You had just entered the Smithsonian Forensics lab ready to head on your lunch date with Angela and Brennan. 

You swipe your access card and head up the platform where you see your brother talking with Angela. 

"Hey big brother, what are you doing here, and please don't tell me you brought a case, because I finally have a day off where I can see my friends," 

He holds his hands up, "no no i was just leaving, bones forgot her purse and I was just bringing by"

"Good, wait who is that talking about Angie?" You ask, looking to the side of Seeley. 

He turns, and looks to where you currently had your eyes set. 

"No, no, you are not gawking at the kid," he says, turning around quickly and holding you by the shoulders. You were his little sister and he loved you. There was no way in hell he was gonna let sweets get his sights set on you.

"Wha-wait he's cute! And definitely not a kid," you say as Booth pulls you from the platform and drags you towards Brennan's office. 

As you pass by Angela and Sweets, he stops mid sentence to watch Booth pull you by the arm.

Angela knew that look, that was the same look Booth would give Brennan for years before they got together. It's the same look Jack gave her.

"Oh no, sweetie, you know Booth will kick your ass if he sees you looking at y/n like that right?" 

"What? I-I wasn't looking at her," he tries to recover. 

"Sweetie, you are looking at her like a love sick puppy," she says, "she is single though, you should ask her out," she walks towards Temperance's office. 

A few moments later the three of you are leaving Temperance's office when you tell the two women to go ahead of you while you spot the young therapist standing awkwardly waiting for Booth. 

"Hi, I'm Y/n Booth. Your Lance right? I see you around with Booth and Temperance a lot. Look this is probably really forward but um, do you wanna have dinner with me? Say this Friday to the founding fathers?" You ask biting your lip slightly after to hold in a smile. 

"Uh ye-yeah that would be great," he says cursing himself for stuttering. 

"Cool, I'll see you there at eight. Bye Lance," you say walking away while giving him a small wave. 

[icantthinkofanythingcool3]

What are some songs you guys would really like fanfiction written to? comment or ask anonymously

[squintern-supremacy]

is lance sweets rly queercoded in the later bones seasons or is it just me (its just me)

[a-tale-of-legends]

Beryl: ( watching the others from a distance)

Lance, who came with Silver: You should join them,you know.

Beryl: ( blinks out of their trance) Hm? What?

Lance: I said you should join them. I can take over the watching from here.

Beryl: ....( Narrows eyes) Don't you have a workaholic problem? I don't want you to add more to your plate than you already have.

Lance: A-ah. ( Clears throat) My work tendencies shouldn't be your priority, Beryl. Your 13. Just as you have the responsibility of being the oldest, you're still a kid ( gestures to the others in the distance) and I think kids should play with their friends than worry about the adults around them, hm?

Beryl: ( looks at Lance, then back her friends playing) ......

Lance: And I'm sure they would love to have you there, too.

Kenji: ( looks back at Beryl, and waves excitedly)

Beryl: ( smiles and gives a small wave back) ......You'll be watching us, right?

Lance: (nods) I'll be right here.

Beryl: .....( Smiles, before running towards their friends, waving) Hey guys!

Kenji and Aiko: Beryl!!!

Silver: ( simply crosses his arms)

Lance: ( smiles to himself as he watches the four play together)

[limelightemorat]

I am begging for some more Bones imagines, most preferably Lance Sweets or Zack Addy. I will literally take anything whether is fluff or smut idc-

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

I was wondering if you could write headcanons for the Bone Boys as dads. ( you can pick one or multiple) (ie. Seeley, Jack, Lance, Zack, or any of the squinterns) I loved your hodgins fic sm <3 take your time!!! Thank you!!!

Oh, I love you for asking this 💕Any opportunity to write for my Jeffersonian family. And my squinterns? You didn't have to ask twice. If anyone want a part 2 let me know. I didn’t include a bunch of squints or my boy Aubrey

Seeley - over protective, caring, goofy, stern, willing to do whatever he needs to to make his kid happy. I mean, just look at Parker - that kid turned out so well adjusted and happy. Booth just loves him to pieces - and Christine? Apple of his eye. Any kid this man has will want for nothing and know nothing but pure unrelenting love. Sunday afternoons of throwing a baseball around - I don't care what gender, any child of Booth will know how to throw a curve ball. And the hockey games? Oh, the kid(s) will be wearing Flyers jerseys before they can walk.

Lance - we were robbed. Robbed of seeing this beautiful man raising a child. Sweets would be such a good dad too. Caring, affectionate, understanding, patient, hilarious, and with one disappointed look have his kids in line apologizing.

Oh, I could just imagine the first few weeks of sleepless nights. Lance, being so excited, but also so terrified of messing up. He knows what its like to have shitty people looking after you, and he'd never want to be that way. But he also knows what it's like to have two loving (amazing) people take care of him and love him with unconditional love.

This of course, would cause him to take the brunt of the middle of the night feedings/check-ins. Lance, sitting in a rocking chair, softly singing Coconut by Harry Nilsson. It's no surprise when the kid knows all the words before they know the alphabet fully.

Just, ugh, nothing but love and laughter.

Any child of Jack's will be showered with affection, over the top gifts (what do you mean a thousand dollar playhouse is too much? It has a fully functional kitchen and a mini lab!), and a love and appreciation for all the beautiful things around them (bugs and all).

"Whose my little prince/princess of the lab?"

Jack would realize his mistake during the preteen phase. "Honestly, I don't know where the sarcasm is coming from. They're too quick for their own good." This of course, would be met with eye rolls, and really? No DNA test needed here. King of the Lab? More like King of Sass.

Jack would love to take the kid(s) to the lab. "This is a Carabidae, they belong to the Adephaga." He'd love to see their little faces light up with wonder. He'd never feel more elated then hearing the little giggles when he puts the beetle into his kids tiny waiting hand.

Wendell would be the sweetest most down to Earth dad. No child of Wendell's would ever know what it means to struggle - not if he had anything to say about it. That doesn't mean his kids wouldn't know the meaning of hard work - that's the one thing Wendell prides himself in. Working hard and knowing you deserved to be there.

Considering his own mother induced labor on a roller coaster, I'm sure Wendell would be there for unconventional methods. His kids would also know how to defend themselves - verbal and physically (No one would ever talk down to his kids and get away with it. And boxers fracture? His kids would know how to throw a punch and mean it - "only if they deserve it, you can't just go around just starting fights with anybody."

His favorite memory would be the first time he took his kid(s) onto the rink. Seeing them persevere and keep going until they got the hang of it - "That's right, you got it!"

Wendell would raise his kids to be prepared for absolutely anything. Car broke down? They would know how to fix the engine. Someone broke their heart? Cry, feel it all, then take a deep breath and keep going. Because no matter what - he'll always be there to back them up.

Vincent would be a dotting dad. A little over the top, but that's why his kids would love him. Any child of Vincent's would know more random facts than any other five year old. The calls from the kindergarten teacher would always be...interesting. "Yes, yes, I can see why talking about the amount of insect legs found in chocolate would be upsetting to the other children."

That of course would not and could not stop him from prattling out more facts every night. Facts were his love language - his bonding time. Every night, without fail, he'd tuck his little one into bed, rambling about any random thought that popped into his head until his child fell asleep.

Colin, sweet morbid hopeless Colin. Would have no idea what to do with a child until one evening when he hasn't sleep for four days straight - he can barely see, his mind and body more fuzzy than normal.

He's looking hopelessly at his baby in his arms, "What? what do you need from me?" His voice growing more weary and desperate. Until he see's it, a smile - then a small gurgle that could be mistaken for laughter. "Oh, you like that, huh, my misery?" He's welcomed by another gurgle and big beautiful eyes blinking slowly back at him. He feels it then - the warmth- the happiness creeping up in his bones. He's got a shot now - at something he never thought about before.

Oh, his kid wants to paint his nails? Sure, he's always got the time, and maybe some tips, a little sloppy on the corner there. It's okay- you're only six we'll get you there, kid.

Colin would be the type of dad to always complain about being dragged to something, but he would secretly love it. Sappy teen movie playing in the background? No, he's not interested. He's just going to stand here for 30 minutes eyes glued to the screen. No, he doesn't want to sit down. Wait- rewind - what are they arguing about? He missed it.

Colin would have a little mini me - both the complete opposite of him and so similar it was scary. His little partner in crime.

Zack would like to think he knows exactly what he's doing but he has no idea. He buys every parenting book known to man. Spends hours of research looking up different child development theories.

No, the baby did not in fact laugh. It's only been a month, a baby can't laugh until at least 5 months. He states that firmly until the next few days when Zack swears up and down he made the baby laugh doing an impression of Hodgins. I know I said that, but perhaps the baby just has my intelligence and early development.

Zack will be there front row and center for every recital, game, or event. Doesn't matter if he has no idea what the rules are or what is going on. He'll be there cheering from the side lines.

His favorite afternoon snack to make? Macaroni and cheese.

Zack is just happy to have made his family a little bit bigger. He never thought he'd be proud of anything outside of the Jeffersonian, but he was happily proven wrong everyday.