Tea? Is Like a Hug In a Cup

disclaimer: these are my personal favorites, and i am not objective. i tried to keep it to only one rec per author, but that rule does get broken a few times. suffice to say, if i've recced one of their fics, i rec their entire catalogue. i tried to make sure all tumblr @ i know personally are included, but if you see one that i didn't catch, let me know and i will update! there are currently seven categories, and only up to five fics per category. and yes i did include one if my own fics, so please don't fight me.

Hi!◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ I was wondering if you would be able to write a Patrick Jane (The Mentalist) x Reader with this prompt “She never smiles…” “you’ve never seen her looking at you then.” with Patrick saying the first part? Of course you don't have to if you don't want to!⸜( > ᴗ <)⸝♡ - Anon💜

He’d been fascinated by you, usually Jane could predict what people were going to do but with you it was harder.

He could get a read of you like everybody else, if you were having a good day, a bad day, things like that, but when it came to guessing your next move you always kept him on his toes.

Nothing was as simple as it seemed either you.

Walking over to your desk, Jane set you down your favourite coffee and beamed brightly at you as you looked up at him.

“What’s this for?” You asked.

“You’ve been busy all morning, you haven’t had your daily coffee yet.”

You took a sip of the coffee, nodding your head as you stood up, grabbing a couple of files.

“Thanks Jane, I’ve got a meeting but I’ll be back in an hour or so for our game of chess.”

He smiled softly, watching as you walked down the hallway.

Then he frowned a little bit, sitting down in your chair as he looked through your desk.

Most of the time you kept books or games for him in there to keep him from getting too bored, and finally he found what he was looking for, and he started going through the books.

“It’s illegal to go through a federal agents desk Jane.”

He looked up at Rigsby.

“I’m looking for a book, but I do have a question for you.”

Rigsby gave a small nod of his head, leaning against the desk behind him.

“Have you ever made (Y/N) smile?”

Rigsby thought for a moment, then he finally shook his head.

“No, I don’t think anybody has.”

Jane nodded his head, getting his book and stood up, making his way over to his couch.

He’d tried a lot to get you to smile, getting you your favourite things, playing small jokes on you, showing you photos of baby animals because everybody loved them.

But you didn’t smile.

He wouldn’t say you were emotionless, you had great control over your emotions, but he did recall them all saying you used to be an undercover agent.

When you came back from your meeting, you came back with Lisbon, and she walked over to him while you walked over to your desk.

Jane studied you as you spoke with Grace and Choi.

“She never smiles…” He mumbled.

Jane looked up at Lisbon.

“You’ve never seen her looking at you then.” She smiled.

With that, she left, and he went back to reading.

As evening came around, you weren’t getting ready to go home when you noticed him sitting ready.

You smiled a little bit, and began packing your things again, only turning around when you were done and you found him stood in front of you.

The little smile quickly fell as you took a few steps back.

“Jeez Jane, you can’t be sneaking up on people it’s how you get hurt.”

He grinned a little.

“You smiled at me!” He beamed.

“I didn’t..” you grumbled.

You brushed past him as he quickly followed you.

“You have a really beautiful smile.” He said softly.

I would love if you could make this vision an actual fic!!! <3333 you’re awesome, keep it up!! :)

Guessing Game

Hiii!! Thank you so much 🤍 I went with fluff but… a little ache first because it’s Jane, he has to suffer a bit 😌

Also—little disclaimer—I was supposed to only start writing requests once my ongoing Jane fic was finished… but I genuinely couldn’t wait any longer 😭 especially now that it’s turning out longer than I expected. So here we are!!

Contains: fluff, jealousy

⤷ NOW PLAYING: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။•

The breakroom table was cluttered with coffee mugs, a half-eaten cake, and a small mountain of gifts. Cho stood by the coffee pot with his usual stoic expression, Rigsby was eyeing the leftover frosting, and Van Pelt was smiling warmly, leaning against the counter. Lisbon stood by the door, arms crossed, leaning against the frame with a look that sat somewhere between "I’m too busy for this" and a genuine, hidden fondness for the team’s antics.

You sat at the head of the table, but Patrick Jane had commandeered the space directly across from you, leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled.

"Alright, let's get the post-mortem started," Jane announced, gesturing to the pile. "Who’s first? Let's go with the heavy, rectangular one. Cho?"

Cho didn't look up from his coffee.

"It's a high-intensity tactical flashlight. 1000 lumens."

You laughed, unwrapping it. "It’s practical, Cho. Thank you."

"Next!" Jane pointed to a small, flat envelope. "Lisbon. Something sensible. A gift card to that bookstore you haunt."

Lisbon snorted, moving closer to the table.

"Oh, Lisbon, that’s perfect!" you beamed.

"Now, Van Pelt. Something sentimental but cozy. A scarf? No... too much volume. A hand-knitted throw blanket."

Grace blushed, grinning. "My aunt made it."

"And Rigsby..." Jane didn't even look at him, he just sniffed the air. "A gift card to that artisanal jerky shop downtown and a set of coasters because he’s tired of you leaving water rings on his desk."

"Hey!" Rigsby protested, his mouth half-full of cake. "Those coasters are high-quality cork!"

The laughter died down as Jane’s eyes landed on the final box. It was small, velvet, and sat prominently in the center of the table. It had been hand-delivered by your boyfriend, Mark, earlier that morning.

The air in the room shifted. Cho set his coffee down. Lisbon’s expression went guarded, her eyes darting between you and Jane.

Everyone knew Mark was "the boyfriend," and everyone knew Jane’s feelings on the matter—mostly because Jane hadn't been subtle about his disdain for Mark’s "predictable personality."

Jane’s posture stiffened. He didn't lean in this time. Instead, he pulled back, his gaze sharpening into something cold and analytical.

"And there it is," Jane said, his voice losing its playful edge. "The 'Grand Gesture.' Square box, velvet lining, heavy weight. A classic play for a man who feels he’s losing his grip on the narrative."

"Jane, don't," you said softly, your hand hovering over the box.

"Jane, leave it alone," Lisbon added, her voice a warning rumble.

"Why? It’s a ring," Jane snapped, his jaw tight. For the first time all afternoon, he looked genuinely miserable. "A diamond. A promise of a mortgage, two cars, and a life of quiet desperation in the suburbs. He’s claiming territory. It’s transparent. It’s dull. It’s..." He trailed off, his eyes darting to yours, filled with a sudden, raw flash of jealousy. "It's a mistake."

The silence in the breakroom was deafening. Rigsby looked like he wanted to disappear into his chair, and even Lisbon looked uncomfortable, her hand instinctively reaching for her hip as if she could de-escalate the tension like a crime scene.

Without a word, you flipped the lid open.

Jane braced himself, his breath hitching. But he didn't see a diamond solitaire. He didn't see a wedding band.

Inside the box was a thick, silver signet ring. It was antique, engraved with an intricate, swirling pattern of a compass rose.

"It’s a family heirloom," you said, sliding it onto your middle finger. "It belonged to his grandmother. She was a traveler. He gave it to me because he knows I’m always restless. It’s a 'safe travels' gift, Jane. Not a proposal."

Jane stared at the ring. He blinked, the gears in his head audibly grinding to a halt. The tension that had turned him into a statue evaporated, replaced by a flush of sheepishness that crept up his neck.

"Oh," Jane said. The word was tiny.

Lisbon let out a long, audible breath, a smirk finally breaking through her concern.

"Wow. The Great Patrick Jane, completely wrong. I should write the date down."

Jane didn't snap back with a witty retort immediately. He just kept looking at your hand, his throat working as he swallowed hard.

​"I wasn't wrong, Lisbon, I was simply... accounting for the statistical probability of Mark being a cliché," Jane said, recovering his smirk with effort. He stood up, smoothing his vest. "I merely over-estimated his courage. It takes a certain amount of bravery to face your rejection, and clearly, he’d rather play it safe with antiques. He's not a romantic, he's a historian. Terribly dull."

He turned abruptly, heading for his couch.

"Enjoy the jerky, everyone. I need to go lie down; being that much of a visionary is intellectually exhausting."

The case was supposed to be easy.

The suspect ran off, and you naturally chased after him.

As you almost catch the suspect, he swung his right fist into your face.

You fight back, protecting yourself, and soon enough, Lisbon came and took the suspect off you.

You pant heavily, crouched on the floor, pain and embarrassment burning in your cheeks.

You wipe your bloody nose, clenching your teeth as your frustration wells up inside you.

After arresting the suspect, Lisbon turns to you, crouching down next to you.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice tight with worry as she gently tries to catch your gaze, her fingertips hesitating near your chin.

"I'm okay."

Lisbon looks at the blood on your sleeve

"That's not usually how okay looks like."

Lisbon sighs slightly as she sees the extent of your wounds.

A bruising eye, a cut above your eyebrow, and a twisted ankle

"Come on, we have to get you checked out..." she mutters slightly, inspecting your wounds.

"No. no hospitals..." You whimper quietly, groaning as you try to put weight on your foot.

"We have to, cmon...“

She tries to get you to follow her, but you stand there, crossing your arms.

She looks at you and sighs, frustratedly

"Fine." She helps you to her car, putting the seatbelt on you.

The drive to her apartment was quiet, tense.

You arrive, and she helps you out of the car, guiding you to her apartment.

"Sit down," she demanded, pointing to her couch

"Lisbon, I'm fine really-"

"Sit. Down."

You sigh deeply and sit down on her couch, leaning back and closing your eyes.

She arrives back with her medkit, sitting down on her coffee table in front of you, knees touching.

You sit up hesitantly, letting her hold your jaw as she cleans the dried blood off your eyebrow.

You watch her with as much concentration as you can master, looking at her expression.

She looks at you, eyes meeting yours.

Lisbon immediately looks away, a faint color spreads her cheeks, subtle but impossible to ignore.

The Adrenaline fades after a while, as she checks out your ankle, you wince unexpectedly.

She stops, looking at you with concern hidden in her eyes.

"Okay, maybe it hurts a little..? You hiss at the pain.

Lisbon softens quickly, sighing and standing up to get a packet of frozen peas for your ankle.

Your hand shoots out to catch hers as she tries to leave

"Stay."

was all you had to say before she sat down next to you.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the bathroom fan and the rain tapping against the windows.

You were stretched out on Lisbon's couch with your injuries taken care of. She had pulled a blanket over you

"You can't keep doing this to me." She whispers after a while of silence, she assumed you were asleep by now.

You stayed still.

Another long silence followed before she looked at your supposedly sleeping body.

"Running into buildings first. taking stupid risks. Acting like getting hurt is no big deal."

There was frustration in her tone, but underneath it was something worse. Fear.

„Every time you do stuff like this…I get scared that I will lose you."

She exhales shakily, like she regretted even saying stuff like that in the first place.

She stands up and pecks your forehead softly, her lips barely touching you, but of course, the touch lingered

Lisbon walks away to get some painkillers and puts them on the coffee table.

"You scare me."

She sighs quietly before going to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly.