#the faint audio from the boxing match playing on a tv

[katierosefun]

y'know, i do think that actors are probably the closest that humans will ever get to a shapeshifter because sometimes i'll go through an actor's filmography and be totally taken aback by the sheer range of roles they've played and how violently dissimilar one role is from the other, so much so to the point that i'll literally forget that they played someone else and oh my god

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Promise

Dr. Lance Sweets x Reader

Words: 2645

Part 1 of 3

Warning: Swearing and gore (I mean, it’s Bones, you should expect that)

Summary: You’re an FBI agent working a case with Booth and the Squint Squad. Your boyfriend Lance starts to get nervous when the serial killer that you’re investigating leaves you a threatening note. You shrug it off as an attempt to scare you and continue the search, leading you straight into a trap.

Note: Since Sweets is my favorite character on this show, I was really excited to write this. I love doing these Bones imagines, so let me know if you guys have requests for more of them. And just a warning, I don’t really know how some things work, so don’t hold it against me. (P.S this was split into to parts because it would be outrageously long if it wasn’t)

You stared down at the mutilated body. It probably would have made you sick if it hadn’t been the fourth one you’d seen. You and Booth had been assigned to this case for nearly two weeks, but it seemed that this serial killer was just slipping more through your fingers. Like the others, the victim appeared to be in her early to mid-twenties. Unfortunately, also like the other victims, most of the flesh had been stripped from the body.

“Son of a bitch.” You muttered, taking a look at the bloody note written on the wall. Run, run as fast as you can… but you can’t catch me. “Booth!” You walked in the direction of your partner. “Please tell me you’ve got something.”

“Just the same things we find at every crime scene.” He sighed. “The bloody message and a CD with audio documentation of the torture. All we have is the sound of our sick bastard’s voice and the screams of that poor girl.”

“Will Dr. Brennan be able to identify her?” You wondered. Booth gave you a look.

“Bones can identify anyone.” He turned to the investigating team. “Let’s get this body to the Jeffersonian!” You paused to stare at the note on the wall, trying to find some hidden code or translation. But you found nothing. “Hey,” Booth placed a hand on your shoulder. “Try to take it easy okay? I know it’s your first major case.”

“Do you know why they put me on this case with you, Agent Booth?” You inquired. Booth gave you a quizzical look. “Because I am one of the best agents of my class. My age doesn’t matter.” He opened his mouth but you cut him off. “And I will not ‘go easy’ until this psycho is behind bars.” As you started to walk away, he handed you the CD.

“Can you have Sweets analyze this?”

“Booth, we both know what’s on that disk.” You said, surprised that he would want to subject someone else into listening to a young woman be sliced apart.

“I know, but maybe instead of trying to match this guys voice to a person, maybe Sweets can figure out what he’s trying to accomplish by all this.” He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Just ask him?” You snatched the disk and put it in an evidence bag.

“I will see what I can do.”

The first thing you did when you entered his office was pull him in for a long, apologetic kiss. As much as he enjoyed the surprise, he pulled away, looking warily at your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, but you just pressed your lips to his again. “Y/N, you’re upset, I can tell.”

“Do not analyze me when I am kissing you.” You scoffed.

“Right, sorry.” He stepped back. You sighed and pulled the evidence bag from your pocket. “What’s that?”

“Booth would like you to see if you can understand this sick bastard by listening to…” The disk shook in your hand. “God, I’m sorry.”

“Why, what’s on the disk Y/N?” Lance wondered, taking the CD from your hands.

“At every crime scene, we’ve found audio recordings of the murder.” You explained. His brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you bring me one sooner?”  He put the disk in his computer, but you stopped him from hitting play.

“I’ve listened to these Lance.” You warned. “They’re…” You couldn’t even find a word awful enough to describe listening to someone die in the way these girls did. Lance took your hand.

“Hey, I’ll be okay.” He sat in his chair and you pulled one beside him. You were not about to let him listen alone, though you knew that he could handle it. With a deep breath, he pressed play.

At first there was just the sharp metallic sound of a knife being sharpened. But then there was a faint whimper.

“Please…” A woman begged. “I have a family. Please don’t hurt-”

“Shhhhh,” The killer cooed. The sharpening stopped. There was a second of silence before a pained cry. Both of you winced as the screams continued for a few minutes. You tried not to picture the image of the blade slicing through her skin, her blood staining the straps holding her down. The killer started to whistle. You shuddered when you realized that the tune was ‘The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow’ from Annie. “Now, my dear patient; would you mind telling Agent Y/L/N you name please?” Sweets froze and your eyes went wide.

“My name is-” She was cut off by another scream, this one being her last.

“Time's up!” There was a deadly quiet before the sound of the recording device being picked up. “So Agent Y/L/N, looks like you’ll have to use your friends at the Jeffersonian to identify my friend here. I look forward to meeting you.” The recording ended suddenly. Lance turned to you, a concerned look on his face.

“Has he talked directly to you before?” He asked. You shook your head.

“All of the other recordings just had him talking to the victim, not us.”

“From what I can understand, he’s desperate for attention.” Sweets explained. “More specifically; yours.” He stood up and grabbed a notepad and paper. “And you’re sure he hasn’t mentioned you or any of the others on the disks before?”

“Yes. He has never once given us the impression he even knows who’s investigating him.” You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to keep calm. “But why me? This is my first major murder case.” Lance paused suddenly from his notes and looked up at you.

“You’re his M.O.” He sighed. “You’re twenty-five, attractive, and you’re an FBI agent, which means you would draw the most attention out of any of his victims.”

“So you think he’s coming after me?” You groaned. This was not what you needed right now. This case was a chance to prove that you belonged in your position. Not only that, but you owed it to those girls to catch this freak.

“Possibly. He could be trying to get underneath your skin. Freak you out so you’re off your game.” Lance proposed. You nodded and put the disk back in the bag.

“So all I have to do is not let him get to me.” You stood up and gave him one last quick kiss. “Thanks.” He grabbed your hand.

“Be careful with this guy, okay?” He pleaded with those big brown eyes. You sighed.

“You know me, Lance. I’m always careful.”

“Y/N!” He called after you, but you were already out the door.

You through your keys onto the table and flopped down on your couch, immediately turning on the TV. The body of the victim told you the girl's identity. Isabella Buchanan, a twenty-three year old police officer. She had two younger brothers, one still in junior high. Booth had volunteered to tell her family. When he listened to the recording, his reaction was very different from Sweets’. He was pissed that this sonofabitch even knew who you were, let alone addressed you while torturing a cop.

After flipping through the channels, your stomach growled. After the day you’d had, you believed that it was a good night to break out the frozen pizza. Your heart jumped when the door to your apartment opened, but you exhaled when you saw that it was Lance. He came up behind you and kissed your cheek, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You should be asking Booth that. He’s the one that nearly threw his computer.” You craned your neck and pressed your lips to his. “I am fine.”

“Are you sure, cause we could talk about it-”

“You’re not allowed to be my shrink, remember?” You reminded him and he pulled away, giving you an irritated look of surrender.

“I’m going to go change.” He mumbled and started toward the bedroom. You opened the freezer and screamed. Sweets rushed back into the room to see you gaping at the bloody frozen cat wedged between a box of toaster waffles and your Ben and Jerry’s. Attached to it was a note. Curiosity killed the cat.

“Oh my god.” You gasped. Sweets pulled you away from the fridge, but you couldn’t pry your stare away from the cat’s dead yellow eyes. You fought against your boyfriend. “He’s just trying to scare me, Lance. You said so yourself.” He flipped you around to face him.

“That was before I knew he was here, Y/N.” He shook your shoulders slightly. “He was in your apartment.” His were filled with something you had never seen in them before; panic. He took your face in his hands. “This isn’t a threat. It’s a warning.” He quickly pulled his cellphone from his pocket and dialed Booth’s number. You snatched it from him and hung up.

“I can’t be put on the bench for this case, Lance.” You spat.

“You cannot be serious!” He shouted. “Y/N, this guy doesn’t just want to kill you. He wants to cut you to pieces like he did with the others. And I am not going to let that happen.”

“Do you not think I know how to handle myself?” You challenged. He stared at you in shock.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” He questioned. “That people will think you’re weak by protecting yourself?” You didn’t answer and he scoffed. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, does your pride matter more than your life?” Your eyes narrowed at him.

“I think you should go.” You commanded. He shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you alone knowing that he’s been here before.”

“Fine, stay!” You yelled. “I’m getting in the shower.”

“Fine!” He shouted back, sauntering off into the living room while you went to the bathroom, wanting to wash away how filthy with guilt you felt. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you that he was right. You were letting yourself get in the way of the problem at hand. There was a slaughtered cat in your freezer for god’s sake. This was more than just the killer trying to scare you away from the case.

You stepped into the stream of hot water, letting it rinse way the tension from your argument with Sweets. Though the water couldn’t wash away your determination to stay on the case, the more time you had to think, the more you could understand Lance’s worry. He was just trying to keep you safe. And he was scared of something happening to you.

When the water finally ran cold, you shut off the shower and stood in front of the steamed over mirror. Through the eyes of your distorted reflection, you saw the fear hiding behind them.

As you made your way across the hall to your room, you were disturbed by the silence of the rest of the apartment. Maybe Sweets had left like you asked. You threw on your pajamas- which were simply an old T-shirt and your most comfortable pair of sweats and walked back out to the living room. Lance was sitting on the couch, staring off at the wall with a terrified and worried expression.

“You’re still here.” You said, sitting down next to him. He had changed into the pajamas he kept at your place- a T-shirt and fuzzy flannel pants that you loved to steal.

“I told you, I’m not leaving you alone.” He responded, turning his head to look at you. You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look into his. “I got rid of the cat while you were in the shower.”

“Thank you.” You felt his palm rest against your cheek, urging you to open your eyes. “Did you call Booth?” He sighed.

“No. But I was hoping you would.” His tone was pleading. You leaned your face into his touch, the warmth of his skin radiating into you. You let your gaze finally open to his.

“Booth will probably make me quit the case and go into some intense protection mode, you know that right?” Your voice was also begging for him to understand your position. “What if he is just trying to get me to quit? You said yourself that he wants attention. Maybe this is giving him exactly what he wants. How is that going to help us catch him?” His hand moved around to the back of your neck and pulled you to him, your lips colliding.

His fear breathed into you, and your determination into him. It was almost painful for him to pull away, but he did, his thumb tracing a line on your lips.

“I am asking this as your boyfriend, not a psychologist; please tell Booth. And if he makes you stay on the sidelines, fine. At least there won’t be a chance of you getting hurt.”

“Lance, there a chance of me getting hurt every day.” You protested. “Why should this case be different?” Your voice cracked, giving away a much more emotional connection to the case than you wanted to. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why are you so attached to this case? What part of it is worth more than your life?” Lance wondered. You took a deep breath.

“Every death that has happened since this case started is on my hands, Lance.” You admitted. “Every innocent girl that he kills before we catch him is our responsibility.” He nodded in understanding.

“This is about her… isn’t it.”

“No.” You answered, but the tears springing loose gave you away. You nodded, your lip trembling as you spoke. “God, it’s like junior year all over again Lance.” He wrapped his arms around you and you buried your face in his shirt.

When you were seventeen, your best friend Miranda was murdered when the two of you snuck out of her house during a slumber party. You had gone to get booze from her older brother at his college. When you two found his dorm, however, Miranda wanted to prank him instead of getting the beer. She knocked on the door and each of you ran around to different corners to scare him. But in a matter of minutes, Miranda screamed. Blood covered the wall and the carpet. Her body was barely even recognizable, with multiple stab wounds to the chest and face.

After a month long investigation, the FBI stepped in when they realized that they were dealing with a serial killer, wanted in three different states. Since you were a key witness, they often came to you with multiple questions about what you saw, making you relive the tragedy every time. But within another month, the woman was caught, shot down during a gunfight with an agent.

Truth be told, it was the reason you wanted to be in the FBI. You wanted to stop people like her from ever causing that kind of damage again. And now it felt like you were just stuck in the same loop, just like when Miranda died. At least now you had Lance.

“Nothing that happened to those woman is your fault.” Lance assured you. “Miranda wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” You told yourself more than to him. “I just can’t give up on this.” You moved your gaze to the floor. “But I will tell Booth about the threat when I see him tomorrow.” His fingers drew circles on the back of your neck.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” You brought him in for a long, passionate kiss. When he pulled away, his expression was questioning.

“Do you think we could stay at my place tonight? I just think since a serial killer knows where you live, it might be best to sleep somewhere else.” You both stood up from the couch.

“Definitely.”

Part Two