AN:This is my first ever writing thing, I apologize for any misspelling or bad editing(there was non). Please give me feed back if you can!
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who can read your mood the second you walk into a room. Skipped breakfast? He’ll know. case affecting you more then your letting on? He knows. Hurt your shoulder taking down a suspect? He defiantly knows. He knows how you work. You’ll tell him when your ready, but when you find a half a sandwich and a coffee on your desk while he’s half asleep on his favoured couch, you know he knows. When you ask how, he just smiles.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane whom with nicknames are consistent at work, always “Y/L/N” or “agent”. At home? Never, always your name, “My sunshine” “sweetheart” “darling” (or “trouble” if he wants to get you riled).
Boyfriend Patrick Jane When on cases You’re one of the only people who can actually call him out at work, or make him make good decisions( or at least let you in on the bad ones)
Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who has the habit of putting himself in dangerous situations with no back up, but since starting to date you, he lets you pull him back.
“Patrick-“
“Yes?”
“Absolutely not.”
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is protective, and while he knows you can absolutely fight your own battles, sometimes he takes over before you can. Someone raised their voice at you? “Don’t talk to her like that.” Sometimes when he’s already riled and someone verbally insults you, he’ll yell. He doesn’t like to, but no one hurts you and gets away like it’s nothing.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane And your house. Neither of you are exactly the most tidy, your house (after moving into a new place, not the same house in which Patrick lost his family) is homey. Lived in but not messy. Books and journals scattered. Shelves full. But you’re happy with it.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who admits always that You’re his happy place. Simple as that. Your nights at home consist of cooking, tea, old movies, you reading on the couch, him pretending to read while in reality he’s just staring at you. “Jane, you’re staring” you’ll say without looking up from your book. “Yeah I am.” He says with that signature smile.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is a do now, deal with later person. But, now you’re his voice of reason. Even if you’re not there you’re on his mind, he has someone to think about again. Now he starts to think before he acts. He still has slip ups, but he apologizes and promises he’s working on it.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who has no shame about his love for you. He loves not loud, but passionately. He is like a love sick puppy with you. While PDA is on the down low at work, at home? He can’t keep his hands off you. Not nessarcily sexual, but just that he needs to have some kind of contact with you.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who would never admit it but you getting mad at him kinda turns him on. He’s out of line, he put himself in the middle of something he shouldn’t have, his perfect girl is there to yell at him. And he is Smiling the entire time, cause he is exactly where he wants to be
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Pairing: Boyfriend!Patrick Jane x fem!CBI agent!Reader
Summary: you’re dealing with the aftermath of a kidnapping from a case a few weeks back.
Content warnings:mention of past kidnapping, mention of blood, reader had a off duty weapon and it is used(not to shoot), reader has anxiety and a hint of depression, vulnerable talk, nightmares, fear of guns(Patrick), hint of readers fear of codependency, no description of reader, PTSD I think that’s really all I’m not sure
A/N: This is my first mini fic or whatever, I’m open to criticism. I truly just started rambling on with this in google docs, this is not edited Because I’m lazy and not very good at this. I think this like like 2k words. Credits to @cursed-carmine for divider!
The first week after your kidnapping everyone came to see you. Lisbon stopped by with antidotes and food you insisted you didn't need. Grace dropped off a get well gift basket and tried to make you laugh.Cho left a paper bag with your favorite bakery's cinnamon rolls on your doorstep without knocking. Patrick came every day. Sometimes with food. Mostly with tea. Sometimes with absolutely nothing except himself. He never stayed long unless you asked. You never asked. It wasn’t because you didn’t want him there, you did. Desperately. But the thought of becoming someone who was needy, the thought of becoming a person who solely depended on another person just to breathe was not a person you wanted to be, especially not to Patrick, the man you loved, the man who had gone through more than anyone thought, and the man who had enough on his plate without a needy girlfriend. Even if he’d fight you on it, saying it didn’t matter, it did to you.
The physical injuries healed quickly, bruises from the handcuffs faded from angry purple to yellow. The burns from the taser stopped aching. The cuts on your wrists closed and the bruises on your ribs had started to fad. The nightmares didn't. Nor did the panic, the way every unexpected noise sent adrenaline flooding your system before your brain could catch up. The director had signed off on mandatory leave Lisbon had extended it, to your dismay and adequate thought that you were ready. "You'll come back when you're ready." "Im ready." "No." "You haven't even looked at me." Lisbon sighed. "I just watched you check every window in this office before you sat down." Your mouth closed. "You picked the chair closest to the exit." Silence. "You jumped when the copier started." "I was startled." "You were frightened." "I'm fine." Lisbon's expression softened. "No." "I'm surviving." The correction slipped before you could stop it. Lisbon caught it immediately. "Exactly. Two different things. Im giving you this time off so you can figure out how to live again. Not just survive. You went through trauma that would have thrown any of us off.” You stayed silent, you hated hearing what was right. Teresa softened her voice again. “I care about you, enough to know when you're faking it till you make it.”
Patrick noticed different things. You answered your phone still, smiled when he smiled or said some stupid joke, thanked him every time he brought dinner. But you no longer paced your apartment while you talked. You stayed curled tightly into one corner of the couch, startled if he stood up too quickly or made fast moves with his hands. When he reached for your hand, you sometimes hesitated. Only for a second, Patrick noticed, of course he did. You apologized every single time. "I'm sorry." "For what?" "I don't know." That answer alarmed him. You always knew, you always had an answer. You were the one that made him apologize for stupid stunts, this wasn’t you, this was some hollowed out shell. The real you got left in that god-forbid warehouse. He missed you. it felt as though some part of you had stepped several feet backward, watching the world from behind thick glass. He couldn't reach you no matter how much he tried. And god did he try.
On the 17 day of the time off a small shift happened, he showed up carrying two paper bags from your favorite Thai restaurant. You ate together at your kitchen table. Or rather Patrick ate. You pushed rice around your plate. "You don't like it? I thought it was your favorite?" "I do—it is." "You've had four bites." "I'm not very hungry." He frowned. "You used to steal half my dinner." "I did." "I miss defending my spring rolls."
Silence settled again. Not awkward. Just...heavy? Eventually Patrick stood. "I'll clean up." "You don't have to." "I know." He gathered the dishes anyway. When he returned, you were staring blankly out the living room window. "Whatcha thinking about?" You answered honestly. "Nothing." That worried him..
"You want me to stay tonight?" The question surprised you. "You don't have to." "I know." "You've got your own place." "I do." "You'll sleep better there." Patrick smiled sadly. "I don't know about that." You looked down at your hands. "Yeah sure, Okay."
He slept on your couch. you never asked him too. Because it felt less intrusive than sharing your bed. Before heading to sleep, he peeked into your room. You were already lying down, lamp on, eyes closed. "Goodnight." "Night." "I'll be right down the hall." You gave a tiny nod and nothing more. Patrick had never been a particularly heavy sleeper. Years of grief, anxiety and imsomnia had been parts that played to that. Every unfamiliar sound pulled him awake. So when the scream tore through the apartment sometime after three in the morning, he was was moving before he was fully conscious. It wasn't a frightened cry—it was raw, animalistic—a sound of absolute terror. Then a thump, and tumble from your room down the hall. His heart stopped. He sprinted down the hallway. "Love!" No answer.
He reached your bedroom door. It was half open from when he left the room hours ago. The lamp had fallen sideways onto the floor. The blankets were tangled. And you—you were backed into the far corner of the room, breathing in desperate gasps like the air could fill your lungs entirely, like you were coming up for air after being shoved underwater. Both hands gripped your off-duty 9 milimeter. Your hands shook and barrel shook violently too. Pointed directly toward the doorway. Toward danger—Toward him. Patrick froze. Every instinct screamed at him to reach you his heart breaking at the sight of you. Instead, he stayed perfectly still. His stomach twisted. He hated guns. Always had. But he loved you infinitely more than he feared one and he knew this wasn’t you. It wasn’t. You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know that you’re safe, he understands and he won’t hold it against you. "Hey, sweetheart." His voice barely rose above a whisper. "It's me." Your eyes darted wildly around the room, refusing to focus, refusing to let you see there wasn’t danger. Only him, only your Patrick. Instead your mind had you trapped somewhere else. "You can't—" Your voice cracked. “Don’t come closer!" His chest tightened. "I'm not." "They said-." Your breathing hitched violently you fought back a sob. "They said if I moved..." Oh. Oh God. Patrick felt sick.
You weren't awake. "You're home." No response. "You're in your bedroom." Another choked off sob. "No." Tears streamed down your face. "I'm still there." He swallowed hard. "No." "I can smell—" Your voice broke. "I can smell the blood." Patrick forced himself to stay calm not to make sudden moves that would scare you further or spiral this nightmare more. "Listen to me, sweetheart," The gun trembled harder. "You are not in that warehouse." "I am." "No." "I can see her." His eyes stung. "The little girl I can see her." You shook your head frantically like you didn’t want to see it, like you couldn’t believe it. "I left her." "No." "I left her." "No, sweetheart." "I promised—" Your breathing dissolved into panicked sobs. "I promised she wouldn't be alone, I promised I’d save her, I’d bring her back to her dad!"
Patrick carefully lowered himself to one knee several feet away. Making himself smaller. Less threatening. "I need you to look at me." You couldn't. "I know, I know baby," He kept his voice impossibly gentle. "So just look at me. ." Another choked sob. Your eyes went toward him for half a second. "There you are." He nodes carefully. The gun lowered an inch. "You live in Sacramento." His voice stayed slow, hoping that if he could give you clues to where and who you are, it’d bring you back to him. "You have a blue couch." "You always leave books on your coffee table." A tear slid down your cheek. "I'm your boyfriend, we’re in your apartment, it’s 3am, and I’m here." Another inch. "You are not alone, baby. As long as I’m breathing you’re not alone." Your arms finally gave out. The gun slipped from trembling fingers and landed on the carpet. Patrick didn't move toward it. He moved toward you. Slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to tell him to stop, or move or do what you needed.
The second he reached you, you collapsed into him. You clung to his shirt with strength, knuckles turning white. Your entire body shook so violently he could barely hold you steady. "I thought—." You couldn't finish, words cut off with a desperate breath. "I know." "I thought they came back." "I know." "I'm sorry." He closed his eyes, kept his arms wrapped tight around you, one arm around your lower back, the other wrapped so he could hold the back of your head. He looked over your shoulder at the pistol lying a few feet away. Unloaded, he didn’t notice, didn’t think to look. The magazine sat on your nightstand. His shoulders loosened just slightly. "You keep it unloaded?" You nodded against his shoulder. "I—." Your breathing hitched. "I can't sleep unless it's there." The confession broke something inside him. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t as welcoming to him sleeping with her.
"I know you hate guns." "I do." "I tried, I did." Your voice was so small. "I tried putting it away." "But then I couldn't breathe, I felt so vulnerable like if I wasn’t careful—." Your voice cracked and you went silent. Patrick wrapped both arms around you. "You don't ever have to hide that from me." "I didn't want you to think that I was crazy."
He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your face was blotchy from crying. Your hair was a mess. And your eyes….They were exhausted. They held fear and anxiety. "I think," he said quietly, "that someone did something unimaginably cruel to the woman I love." Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "I think your mind is trying very hard to keep you alive." His thumb brushed gently beneath one eye. "I would never think you’re crazy, love. Never ."
"I don't know what's happening to me." "You've been having panic attacks." A tiny nod. "Nightmares?" Another nod. "How long?" "Almost every night." His heart sank, that meant there were nights when he was just a few feet away from you and you’d been suffering, alone. "And you didn't tell me." He sounded heartbroken, not because he was mad, never. But because the thought of you going through this without a word was enough to make him cry. "I didn't know how." He understood that way too well, after Angela and Charlotte, there had been years where language had failed him, too. Sometimes pain simply existed beyond words.
"You know," he murmured, "I kept thinking you were pulling away because of me." Your eyes widened in horror. "What?" "I thought maybe," He looked down. "you didn't want me around." Your face crumpled with almost a pained look. "No." The word came out instantly, fast and sure. "I wanted you." Another tear. "I just," You looked ashamed. "I don't know how to be around people anymore, and feel like I’m not gonna die." Patrick nodded slowly. "I believe you." "I keep waiting for something bad to happen, I can't relax." "I know." "I don't even recognize myself.” He rested his forehead against yours. "I do." You frowned. "The woman I know would sit beside a frightened thirteen-year-old girl even after everything she'd been through herself." His voice wavered. "She'd promise that child she wasn't alone.” You closed your eyes, "I couldn't stop looking at her. And now I can't stop seeing her." Patrick held your face in both hands. "You survived something that no one should have had to go through. You don't need to pretend you're okay because it makes everyone else more comfortable." His gaze never left yours. "You can wake me up every single night if that's what happens. If you need someone to remind you where you are, who you are, and that you’re okay. You’re my girl, lost hours of sleep is worth nothing compared to your comfort." "I won't wake you." "You will." A watery laugh escaped you. "You don't get to decide that." "Oh I absolutely do." He kissed your forehead. "Im your partner. I'm your Patrick." "You are." "My job is to annoy you with how much I care." "That's not your job description." "Oh but isn’t it?" He gave you that signature smile, soft and reserved for you. Another laugh, shakey, brought with a small grin from you and Patrick smiled as if you'd handed him the world. "There she is."
patrick that is so disgustingly in love with you, so absolutely gone, to the point his whole body just gives under the pressure of his adoration.
between many, endless things that demonstrate to you just how much his body just radiates with love, kissing is certainly one of them.
having the smug, usually careless, borderline sociopathic patrick jane just melt into you, desperately at that, just proves to you how much his love is true.
his heavy palms holding your skull, his tall frame curling into itself as he leans into you, leaning desperately, as if every little move you give means you'll pull away. knees giving in slightly, not dramatically, just a tremor in his bones as he tries to bend his body to fit around your own.
he holds you with fear, almost, kisses you randomly when you're not even ready to meet the intensity his lips present yours. the need for you just coming out of his pores with how tightly he holds you. how his hands grip your jaw a little when your surprised self doesn't immediately reciprocate his spontaneous assault of your lips.
he wants you to feel just as intensely for him, wants you to be just as tortured as he is, so the moment you melt into him, when your loving arms embrace him back, his ever-screaming thoughts dissapear into static. his brain leaking out of his ears as your own lips move languidly against his, and the pink muscle that is your tongue, plush and slick with spit, hidden until then, traces his bottom lip teasingly.
causing his own tongue to wrap around yours, a syrupy exchange of dna, lazy and full of need that you're too lazy to act upon. too lazy, when all the licking and slurping just cause you to lean further into him, hold him closer and make his heart grow so big in his chest he can hear his ribs crack.
when you whine softly in response to the heat starting to form between you, the one that trails all over your body and ends between your thighs; your sound of pleasure is met with an even needier sound from him.
maybe a mock, but definitely an affirmation of the arousal that makes you two rub against each other like cats. a sound that you love hearing leave him, because even though you know he's repeating what he hears from you, it doesn't make it any less real.
so now, dizzy and hot, those tragic eyes of his having their pupils all blown, he just looks at you in awe. breathing like a dog, more truthful than he had ever allowed himself to be, in a pleasure drowned murmur, he speaks.
"i love you..." he declares, serious, sobered up from the pleasure, grim in his seriousness, as if this is a life or death situation that's leaning more towards death and he desperately needs you to hear it.
confession, which gains a loud laugh from you, and a reciprocation of his words, that causes him to laugh too in confusion. tension slightly melting into something sweet and familiar as you two bicker over your visible amusement. as if his words weren't painfully obvious when you could feel him through his dress pants.
ik he's so chalant matter of fact he's the most chalant if i'm allowed to say that
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Summary: you had been working with Patrick Jane for awhile at the CBI one night you stay late to talk about the case. One thing leads to another... The next morning your gone
Content: Patrick Jane x female reader / suggestive content/ making out in public/ hurt/comfort / kidnapping/ reader gets punched and stabbed:( / confessing fellings / if I forgot something please let me know
An : I am so excited to post this! This is my first time writing for Patrick Jane I just started watching The mentalist about a month ago I'm almost finished season 2 and this man has been on my mind non-stop. If you have any requests regarding this character please let me know but !!!!no spoilers please!!!
You sat on that leather couch with your feet on Jane's lap. The rest of the team had gone home. And Cho had just finished his paperwork. He told you both to get some sleep. Before he left the office.
Most of the lights were off. It was so quiet. You normally never stayed behind, but something about this case was different. You had something on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't quite get there yet you didn't have enough evidence.
“You feel guilty.” you lift your head from the arm rest. Jane's eyes are closed. Like they've been for the last half hour.
“What?” He always does this. You don't know why you humour him every time. Maybe because you're soft on him. Many people think he's a pain in the ass when he somehow manages to read your mind and share it with everyone around. But you never minded it. You were a pretty open book anyways.
“You feel guilty because you need more evidence. You feel guilty because you want more. And the only way to get more is for another girl to die. You don't want that but you need it, hence guilty.” He says with his eyes still closed.
You rolled your eyes and let your head fall back. Right again
“You're right” you hear Jane hum. You sit up “I do feel guilty. We need more evidence. Obviously this guy's a cereal we just need him to…”
“Make a mistake.” he finally opened his eyes
“Right. I just wish we knew where he was meeting them.”
“Well my guess is a bar, but which bar is too soon to tell. Both victims frequented at least 20.”
“We don't have enough manpower to cover every bar in Sacramento.
“So we wait.” he says as he closes his eyes again.
You kick your feet off his lap. Janes’ startled in the process. “I refuse to believe that's all we can do, isn't there another angle something else we can look for.”
He bends over to the table to grab his tea. You wondered if he wanted it earlier but didn't move because he didn't want to disturb you lying in his lap.
“No, all we have is two body's, two girls that look similar.” He looked over at you, then back to his tea. “But is to soon to see if its coincidence”
“You don't believe in those.”
“This is true but.” he let it hang in the air. “Nothing nevermind.” he sets his tea down.l
“No you can't do that.” You moved over to sit next to him. “You can't just keep your theories to yourself.” he raised his eyebrows. “Okay i know thats what you do but come on cut me some slack. I stayed late because I.” I wanted to spend time with you "I wanted to talk more about the case. I know you have something in that head of yours.”
He's looking at you listening to you talk.
“It's just us,” you move in closer. It's like you're trying to get him to tell you a secret that requires a hush tone, even in an empty room. “You can tell me.”
He turns to meet your gaze, shifting in his seat. He lets out a sigh.
“With the two girls looking the same there is absolutely a pattern, a type but what i dont get is the way he kills them. First one was suffocated, next one was shot, it's like he's trying to figure out what he wants to do with them. The fact that he always keeps them for a few days to do god knows what. Proves that he's a psychopath. I just.”
silence
“Just what?” you whispered
You didn't realise how close you two had gotten on the couch till now. You could smell the chamomile in his breath.
You stared at him. He was always looking at faces, always trying to read peoples thoughts and he was damn good at it. You didn't know if he knew what you were thinking. You didn't know if you wanted him to know, if you were being honest.
The real question is not if he knew. He knew what you were thinking, it was if he was going to let you.
You leaned in and he didn't back away. His eyes darted between your eyes and swiftly to your lips. He's not pulling away.
You move closer. Noses almost touching. His eyes are hooded and he hasn't pulled away. You take that as your sign.
You tilt your head slightly and close the distance. Your lips move against his.
His are still. You feel his exhale brush the top of your lip. You pull back slightly. Letting him make the next move. Your eyes were closed. You didn't feel the couch move beneath you so you know he hasn't pulled away.
You opened your eyes to find him staring at your lips. You're scared to move and don't want to scare him away.
“Jane.” You couldn't help but call his name. “I-”
He leaned in this time his lips were moving against yours. It was quick and sloppy like he hadn't kissed in years.
His left arm raised to hold your face. He was dominating the kiss and you welcomed it. You met his lips with just as much passion he put in.
He leans in and lays you down on the sofa, holding himself over you, never breaking the kiss. You reach up and grab his face, sliding your fingers through his hair. He lets out a sigh. And his kiss falters a bit but he quickly regained his composure.
He moves his knee between your legs. Enough to feel the heat but not enough to get any serious pleasure from.
He takes his free hand and moves it along your body. Till it reaches your waist. The kiss had become steady and passionate now.
Your shirt must have untucked from your skirt because you feel his soft fingers sliding underneath. You pull on his hair again.
His whole hand is under your shirt now. His warm hands barely touch you. Like he didn't know if you were really there.
“Patrick” you moaned.
His hand stills and his lips stop.
Fuck
He pulls himself off of you and quickly stands up. Like you were a fire he was trying to get away from
“I cant i,-” he's looking at you, the floor, his eyes are darting all around.
“Jane.” you quickly go to stand up and take a step towards him. He takes a step back lol
“Im sorry i,” he turned and left. Not looking back, not grabbing his suit jacket.
Leaving you alone. In the empty office.
…
The next morning was surprisingly crisp. Jane drove to work in silence. He felt awful for leaving you like that. He just didn't know what to do. It had been so long and he hadn't been with anyone since…
Once he pulled into the station he just sat in his car. Not moving. He didn't know what he wanted to say to you. He liked you, god did he like you. He just didn't know how to react. He wanted to kiss you, to touch you god knows he's thought about it before, but once you called his name it felt… He didn't know how he felt. He leaned forward and rested his head on the wheel.
Bang
He looked up. It was Lisbon. He could tell by her face something was wrong.
Lisbon and Jane made their way inside and the rest of the group was sitting there all except … you
Van Pelt was the first to speak. “I went to pick her up this morning. And when she didn't pick up the phone I assumed she was asleep. I went into her apartment to wake her up. She always sleeps in so she gave me a key, she wasn't there. She never made it home.
Rigsby chimed in. “How could you tell?”
She always leaves her gun in the same spot. When she wasn't in bed it was the first thing I checked.
“Alright, who was the last one here?” Lisbon asked in a calm and cool tone, she was worried but she had to be solid, for her team.
This can't be happening. Jane thought he couldn't believe he left you alone last night. In his haste he forgot he would have been your drive home. In the entire 3 times you've left after Grace he drove you back. All except-
“Jane?”
“Yes?” Everyone noticed he was lost in thought.
“Cho mentioned when he left around 10:30 you two were still here.” Lisbon said.
Everyone was looking at him for answers waiting for him to speak. To say something that would solve this.
“You left your jacket here last night, did you two leave in a hurry?” Rigsby mentioned.
“No we didn't, I did. I uh, left before her.” Everyone looked at his flustered state.
“Okay. We need to know what time she left, Rigsby, go check the cameras to see when she ended up leaving.” Lisbon ordered
“Yes boss.”
Shit
“I'll go too”. Jane followed behind as Rigsby left to go check.
Jane needed to figure out a lie or an excuse to ask Rigsby if he could check the cameras by himself. As soon as he got to the room Jane put his hand on Rigsby's chest.
“I need a favor.”
…
You wake up and open your eyes but it's so dark. You'd think you were dreaming if you didn't have a splitting headache. You go to grab your head but your hands are stuck at your sides.
“What the-” you go to look down, your eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.
You're sitting on a chair. A pretty busted up one that is. You went to move but the rope was too strong. Once your eyes finally adjust you realise. The way the rope is tired is in the same pattern as the victims.
“Shit.”
“Quite the problem I'd say.” you look up and squint. There had been someone in the room this whole time. Just sitting and waiting in the corner.
“You know I'm a cop, they're going to be looking for me.”
“Yeah,” he sits up, coming closer to you. “And im santa clause.” he walks over finally coming into sight. He's younger than you thought he would be. “If you're a cop. Where is your badge or” he leans in and places his hand on your hip. “Or gun”
Shit
“I’m with the CBI I’ve been working on your case. Your first victim was Kelly Stuart,”
“Shut up”
“She was suffocated. You kept her for-“
“I said shut up” he took a step back, turning around realizing his mistake. You kept talking.
“- two days before you finally put her out of her misery” you were cut off but a swift punch to the face.
Your head whipped to the side and you yelled in pain.
It took a second before you spoke again.
“They’re going to find you.”
…
“Why do you need to watch this alone?” Rigsby asked, genuinely confused.
Jane moved in closer. “She, well we,”
breath
“She got a phone call from her mom that her childhood cat died and she got all upset and was crying and oh gosh it was a mess. But after she told me not to tell anyone.” he moved in closer. “She didn't want to look weak.”
Rigsby paused…“Okay sure.” Jane flashed his trademark smile and went into the room by himself.
It didn't take him long to find what camera and the best angle to see when she left. He watched as they talked on the couch. He watched as you kissed him. He can't believe he left you like that. And to think that might be the last time you saw him, a coward. When he looked up it was him leaving in a rush to get as far away from his feelings as he could. He watched as you sat back down on the couch. With your head in your hands. You were crying.
He doesn't know how he's ever going to make it up to you. He has to find you.
After he fast forwarded the tape and saw that after about ten minutes you left without taking your badge or gun with you.
He left you to walk home alone at night without any protection. He knew you were the killer type, everyone did, they just didn't say anything. And his selfishness caused her to get taken.
“So?” Van Pelt asked.
“She left about 11:30.” Jane stared, and he walked over to her desk, pulling her gun still in its hulster. “Without her badge or gun.”
“Why would she do that? She was the killer type. I never go anywhere without my gun.” Cho said.
“Her cat died.” Rigsby announced.
“So the killer doesn't know she's a cop?” Van Pelt added
“Hey this may be a good thing,if he thinks she is just another girl he should stick to his original time line. She's a strong girl, she knows we're coming.” Lisbon paused. “Hey i thought her ca-”
“She doesn't live that far, only a few blocks. Grace? do you know the way she walks home?” Jane cut her off before Lisbon could finish.
“Yeah-”
“Then we could walk the same way and see if any bars along the way match up with the disappearances of the other victims.”
…
You were starving. You knew only having a bagel for lunch yesterday was a bad idea. Your brain was foggy and your face was so sore. you can't tell how long you've been here or if it was day or night. All you knew was that the man who took you was gone. You heard him drive off. You knew if you had anytime to escape it would be now.
You desperately tried to free your hands but it was no use. You didn't know how long he would be gone for so you had to think quickly. The chair felt wooden and your legs weren't tied up. You knew if you knocked the chair hard enough against the wall it would break. It would hurt but it was the only thing you could think of.
It took a moment but you managed to stand up. You didn't know the best way to do it so you did what first popped into your mind. You stepped away from the wall. And took a deep breath. You ran towards the wall and at the last moment turned your back.
Craaaaack
You hit the floor and curse out. You went to move your arms but it was no use. One of the chair legs broke off but the arms and the rest of the chair was unfortunately still intact.
Leaving you on the cold floor. Laying on your side. You kept struggling but it was no use.
Your looming fate crossed your mind and you started to cry.
…
“We've been to about 10 bars in like an hour.” Rigsby said, sounding defeated.
“No, we've been to nine bars, this one's ten.” Cho retorted.
As soon as they walked in the bar. A kid caught their eye. And he started running to the kitchen.
“HEY!” Rigsby shouted. And started to follow.
“I'll go round back.” Cho said, running out the front to the back of the bar.
Rigsby chased him out to the back where his partner waited, flanking him.
The young man turned around to see he had been caught so he gave up and put up his hands.
Lisbon and Jane watched Cho and Rigsby grill the suspect from the next room.
“I mean how old is this guy, he barely looks 21.” Lisbon asked.
“You're right he's too young to pull this off. But look at him, he's hiding something.” Jane says with his arms crossed. Not taking his eyes off the suspect
“Maybe a partner, someone older like a mentor?”
“Yeah maybe.”
Lisbon pulled out her phone. “Van Pelt, see if the kids got any one older in his life that has a record of violence we think maybe he has a partner.” She hangs up.
They both listen in on the interrogation for a while.
Lisbon turns to Jane.
“hey, I know that that ugly cat of hers died 8 months ago and she was glad it was gone, So what actually happened last night and so help me god if you lie to me.”
He didn't know what to say. What happened last night? He was a coward, he left her by herself after she showed him what it was like to feel something again.
As soon as he opened his mouth to say something Van Pelt came through the door.
“Boss, we've got something.”
As soon as they got out of the room, Jane stopped them. “I'm gonna stay here and see if I can get anything out of him.”
Lisbon nodded and walked down the hall with everyone. He opened the interrogation room door and watched as the kid looked at him.
“Where are your other friends?"
“Busy. finding where your partner is." Jane watched as the kids’ faces faltered. Bingo he pulls the chair right next to him.
“Now, you're going to tell me where she is.”
Getting the kid to spill about his brother and the place he keeps them was easy. He knew the others would figure it out soon and follow suit. He wanted to get there as quickly as he could. He couldn't let you die. He couldn't let it happen. Not again.
…
After you eventually pulled yourself together. You thought about your friends, about Jane.
About how he pushed off of you last night. You didn't know what you did wrong. You can't believe you did that to him. You hope you can see him again to apologise. That is you don't die in this disgusting basement first.
You hear a car pull into the driveway and you mentally curse. You hope whoever took you didn't get mad you tried to escape and broke his chair. You thought your chances were slim.
You did all that you could do and thought about the things that made you happy. Trying to stay strong. You know they'll find out who did it. You try not to imagine everyone looking down at your body.
You heard footsteps. Slow and careful. It was taunting you.
When you fell and broke the chair you managed to fall facing away from the stairs so you couldn't see them coming.
You heard the door open and you closed your eyes and tensed. Your whole body goes stiff as you prepare for the inevitable.
You feel a hand on your shoulder. You don't open your eyes; That you didn't realize were full of tears.
“Hey, hey , it's me, your okay.”
“Jane.” You opened your eyes and saw him on his knees above you.
He puts his hand on your face. You winse in pain.
“You should see the other guy.” You say trying to make him not pity you.
“Are you hurt?” He starts to look over your body for any wounds.
“No I'm okay. Just hurry please.”
He starts to work on the rope of one of your arms.
“Where is everybody, I only heard one car pull up.”
“Yeah about that. I might have gone ahead.” He keeps trying but the knot is really tight.
“Tell me you brought a knife or something.” He stops and looks at you with a face saying the idea never crossed his mind.
“There's probably a knife somewhere in the house I'll be right back.” He gets up and runs upstairs.
“Jane!” You call out as he leaves you downstairs. And just like that your alone again. At least you know help is coming.
Just then you hear another car pull up. But it's just one, and no sirens.
“Shit, come on.” You struggle against your restraints but no use.
Jane comes running down the stairs
“Got it!” He shouts
“Shh” you hush “just hurry up someones coming."
He made quick work with the knife and was able to free one hand then the next. He held out his hand and pulled you up.
When he saw the rope burn on your arms he held them in rubbing he's thumb over it.
“Oh come on, it's not that bad.” There was a silence.
“I thought I'd lost you. I-”
the sound of footsteps cought both your attention.
“Come on” you point to the wall beside the stairs. “Stay here don't move.” You whispered.
…
Its moments like this were when Jane wished he could help. He always felt so useless when he had to stay out of the action like this.
He knew it was for the best. He watched you stalk forward knife in hand. And all the sudden you jump out of sight and he hears the sounds of fighting.
Your out of his line of sight. He can't see you. What if you need his help.
He slowly walked towards the end of the wall and peaked out to see the man on top of you and was holding the knife. You were strong but this man had at least 60 pounds on you.
He looked for something to grab. And found the leg of the chair that broke off. As soon as he grabbed it. The sound of your scream jolted him.
He looked over and the man had stuck the knife in your shoulder.
He ran up behind him and cracked that chair leg as hard as he could against the man's head.
Causing him to fall on his back. Jane looked for a moment to make sure he wasn't going to get back up.
“Is he” you groan out.
“No, We're safe now your safe now.” He's looking to see the wound. You had your hand over it to try and stop the bleeding.
He quickly takes his jacket off and uses it to apply pressure to your shoulder. You wince out in pain.
“I know I'm sorry. They'll be here soon, don't worry.” as if right on que he heard the sirens. “Hear that? They'll be here before you know it.
“Jane i-”
“It's okay, don't talk, just listen to my voice.” his voice was smooth like honey. The voice he normally reserved for putting people in a trance.
“Jane, I'm sorry.” your losing a lot of blood. you're starting to feel cold.
“for what?”
“For the other night, i-” you're fighting to keep your eyes open. “ I shouldn't have done that to you. I'm sorry. I don't know what i was thinking i-”
He kisses you. one hand still steady on your bleeding wound the other gripping your face. He pulls back when he feels you stop moving. He pulls you into his lap.
“Hey, come on, wake up.” he takes the hand from your face to below your jaw to check your palse.
Still beating but slow.
The first voice he hears is Lisbons
“Down here we need a medic.” he shouts out
She gets down stairs. He tells her to cuff the kid.
The EMTs are next through the door and they tell jane to get up so they can help. He stands back. He looks down and sees the blood all over his hands. Your blood.
…
You wake up and open your eyes but the room is light, almost too bright. You let your eye adjust for a moment. You try to remember how you got there but it’s blank.
“There she is.” You turn to your left and see a beautiful blonde man with a gorgeous smile and striking blue eyes.
You go to sit up but feel a sharp pain in your shoulder.
“Hey carful.” He jumps forward and holds lightly holding your shoulder helping you to a comfortable position.
“What happened anyways” your mind was foggy all you can remember was fighting the guy with a knife.
"it doesn't matter, what matters is that your back, in" he looks at your arm. "In mostly one piece."
You looked up at his eyes, he wasn't meeting your gaze, after all this time of knowing him you could tell when he was just putting on a face. This was one of those times.
"you were worried about me," you said slowly. "Really worried." He finally looks back at you and he has tears in his eyes.
"Im so sorry, I-" he takes a deep breath and re centers himself. "I feel horrible. The other night when we.-" another pause. "I just panicked. I hadn't felt like that since. I haven't... So when you said my name. It made it feel so real. I was scared to lose you too." Hes taken your hand and has been gently but fermly squeezing it. " And then the next morning when you were gone. I thought it was happening again. Im so sorry for leaving you like that."
You say and listen to him pour his heart out. You started to tear up as well.
"Patrick," you squeeze his hand. "I thought I was going to die last night. I don't want to die with any regrets-"
Before you could open your mouth you were silenced by his lips on yours. Slow and deliberate. He's cheeks were wet with tears but so we're yours.
The words were to scarry to be spoken out loud but the kiss said all that needed to be said.
AN:This is my first ever writing thing, I apologize for any misspelling or bad editing(there was non). Please give me feed back if you can!
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who can read your mood the second you walk into a room. Skipped breakfast? He’ll know. case affecting you more then your letting on? He knows. Hurt your shoulder taking down a suspect? He defiantly knows. He knows how you work. You’ll tell him when your ready, but when you find a half a sandwich and a coffee on your desk while he’s half asleep on his favoured couch, you know he knows. When you ask how, he just smiles.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane whom with nicknames are consistent at work, always “Y/L/N” or “agent”. At home? Never, always your name, “My sunshine” “sweetheart” “darling” (or “trouble” if he wants to get you riled).
Boyfriend Patrick Jane When on cases You’re one of the only people who can actually call him out at work, or make him make good decisions( or at least let you in on the bad ones)
Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who has the habit of putting himself in dangerous situations with no back up, but since starting to date you, he lets you pull him back.
“Patrick-“
“Yes?”
“Absolutely not.”
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is protective, and while he knows you can absolutely fight your own battles, sometimes he takes over before you can. Someone raised their voice at you? “Don’t talk to her like that.” Sometimes when he’s already riled and someone verbally insults you, he’ll yell. He doesn’t like to, but no one hurts you and gets away like it’s nothing.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane And your house. Neither of you are exactly the most tidy, your house (after moving into a new place, not the same house in which Patrick lost his family) is homey. Lived in but not messy. Books and journals scattered. Shelves full. But you’re happy with it.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who admits always that You’re his happy place. Simple as that. Your nights at home consist of cooking, tea, old movies, you reading on the couch, him pretending to read while in reality he’s just staring at you. “Jane, you’re staring” you’ll say without looking up from your book. “Yeah I am.” He says with that signature smile.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is a do now, deal with later person. But, now you’re his voice of reason. Even if you’re not there you’re on his mind, he has someone to think about again. Now he starts to think before he acts. He still has slip ups, but he apologizes and promises he’s working on it.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who has no shame about his love for you. He loves not loud, but passionately. He is like a love sick puppy with you. While PDA is on the down low at work, at home? He can’t keep his hands off you. Not nessarcily sexual, but just that he needs to have some kind of contact with you.
Boyfriend Patrick Jane who would never admit it but you getting mad at him kinda turns him on. He’s out of line, he put himself in the middle of something he shouldn’t have, his perfect girl is there to yell at him. And he is Smiling the entire time, cause he is exactly where he wants to be
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patrick jane truly is a character of all time. he's arrogant. he's broken. he's haunted. he's funny. he's genuinely delighted by small pleasures. he likes breaking and entering. he's a tea snob. he's tortured frequently on screen. he flinches every time a gun goes off. he hides behind his female colleagues when he gets scared. he's a sociopath. he's a liar. he does magic tricks. he has basically no moral compass and will do anything to catch the guy who killed his wife and child, including lie to and use everyone he cares about. he sleeps on a mattress on the floor in the room his family was murdered in, with the calling card of their killer still on the wall. he loves children. he's very empathetic. he's the reason his family is dead. he loves setting traps and catching people in lies. he hates rich people and doesn't care when they get murdered. he's a card shark. he always knows what everyone is thinking. when people piss him off he makes their lives miserable. he hypnotises people all the time. he's a con man. he's the most honest guy you'll ever meet. like literally where else do you find a freak like that.
The one where Jack Abbot accidentally knocks up Robby's little (step)sister in his final year of college.
warnings: this blog is 18+, mdni! this fic deals with pregnancy, discussions of abortion and medical complications, explicit sexual content, slut-shaming (not by jack), reader is robby's step-sister, they are not related biologically, and reader's appearance is not described at all.
prologue sneak peak // meet the cast // instagram post snippet // original moodboard
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Chat I need people to start getting into the mentalist, I need Patrick Jane x reader fics, I need grumpy Cho x sunshine reader, I NEED IT PLEASE! I lack the skills of writing and have recently moved on from the Pitt to the mentalist (I still fuck with a good abbot fic dw) but this fandom needs to grow, we need more talented people here. We need smut, we need headcannons and 4K+ worded fics, and one shots.
