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gemstone-roses · 5 months

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Christmas fic party request:

Where reader is an fbi tech (post red John) and shoots her shot at Jane at the Xmas party. Smut. Lots of smut. Very comforting because I just imagine him being SO lovely. Age difference mentioned.

Patrick Jane x female reader

Summary: your feeling brave, the man you’ve been pining for is older than you, surely he’s not interested in you, right? Smut. 18+ only,protected sex, praise kink, lots of praise, eye contact , so much praise ugh I’m mad for this man okay! I’m begging people to send in more requests for him 🙏🙏

Warnings: explicit smut, 18 plus ONLY. Smut, protected sex, praise kink x10. Fingering. Pet names, Minors be gone from here!

A:N - I’m super proud of this one. Thankyou for requesting I hope you liked it 🥹🥹please feel free to request more for Patrick Jane too!! ❤️

The wince on your face as you glance around the room is prominent. You only came tonight for one reason. And he’s not here.

Your colleagues are busy getting merry, rigsby and van pelt wearing matching Christmas jumpers and paper hats. The music is so loud you can feel it coursing through you.

Jane had seen your mood dip around the holidays and he had made you promise you would at least show your face. You agreed solely because he said he would accompany you and your heart fluttered at his offer. The small touch he left on your elbow, the reassurance in his face when he said ‘I’ll be with you the whole time’ had you screaming internally.

You weren’t the newest member of the team, but you were quite a bit younger than Jane, and as he is so observant you did your absolute best to keep your crush on him secret.

It had been a long few years.

Fed up of the party, you duck out and find yourself wandering straight into something tall and hard.

Patrick

“Oh shit I’m so- you start, blinking at him as you try and play it off.

“Are you okay?” He asks rubbing your arm soothingly.

It seems your brain has short circuited as you just stare at him, he looks good, so good.

“Hey” he says softly, moving his hand to cup your face.

“Hey Jane” you squeak out, praying he can’t tell how flustered you are.

His brows crease at you, his thumb runs across the curve of your cheek and you cannot take this anymore so you bring your hand up to connect with the hand that’s on your face.

His eyes bore into yours as you wait for him to pull his hand away.

But he doesn’t.

“Jane, I- I need to tell you something I - you whisper closing your eyes as you speak.

“I know” he says lowly

“You what!” You say, horrified, eyes shooting open as heat rises to your face.

You try and turn away but he stops you, hands flying to your waist, gripping tightly.

Your lips part slightly as you take in the man in front of you. He smiles, leans forward and

Runs his thumb across your lip and once again your brain short circuits, you think you might die right there. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the way your pulse starts picking up and your eyes blow wide at his action.

“Jane?” You ask, voice cracking

“Yeah honey?” His voice slightly deeper, it makes your pussy clench and your heart soar.

“I love you” you say, and for a moment you panic thinking he doesn’t feel the same and then he closes his eyes and sighs, before pulling you in closer

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that” he growls.

He searches your face for any kind of hesitation and you nod, he smiles as he shakes his head.

“Use your words my darling”

“Hurry up and kiss me, please” you whine,

Your breath hitches as he cups your face again and brings his lips to yours. His lips are soft, he presses into you as he deepens the kiss.

You can’t help but let out a moan as he presses into you, it’s comforting, safe, and leaves you wanting more.

“Patrick” you whisper, as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hand comes back to cup your face, finger stroking slowly down your cheek.

“You okay?” He checks.

You nod a bit too quickly, and he chuckles.

“Shall we, go somewhere more private?” He whispers as he leans in to place a feather light kiss to your neck.

“God, yes” you mutter. He grabs your hand instantly and leads you up to his room above the office.

“It’s cold in here” you mutter as he shuts the door to his living space, instantly his arms are around you again, catching your lips in a searing kiss he cages you against the wall. One of his arms rest on the wall, the other tracing down to your waist. Your chest heaves as he teases his fingers up and down underneath your shirt.

“Please” you whine and he smirks, dipping his hand beneath the waistband.

“God your dripping” he murmurs rubbing your throbbing pussy through your panties. You clench your thighs together at his actions, and his words.

“Jane” you croak, desperate, needy.

“I love the sound of my name falling from your lips” he breathes, making you look at him before moving your panties and sliding in a finger.

It’s agonisingly slow, and of course Patrick can tell your getting frustrated with his teasing.

He speeds up a bit before adding another finger, your walls flutter around his fingers.

“Mm, Jane fuck” you whisper, he increases the pressure and starts to curl his fingers up as they enter you. His thumb comes to circle your clit and he catches your moan with a kiss.

“D-don’t stop” you moan as he presses his thumb into your clit as he curls his fingers hitting your G spot.

“Oh OH god” you whine

“That’s it honey” he soothes, breaking the kiss as your walls clench around his fingers.

“Jane” you say as you feel your orgasm approaching

“Come for me, that’s it, good girl” he says as he curls his fingers once more and you see stars as your orgasm crashes over you.

He holds you steady, fingers lazily pushing in and out of you as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“You okay”? He whispers placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod and he pulls you into his embrace.

“God that was- incredible” you pant, leaning in to give him a kiss.

He pulls you gently towards his bed.

He pushes you gently and you fall back

“Lie down” he whispers, he’s out of breath and it’s so arousing you can’t help the throb that courses through you.

Patrick unbuttons his suit jacket, hanging it up on the chair he climbs on top of you. Once again you feel safe within his presence.

His arms come to rest on either side of your head, he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Stop it” you say, trying to turn away from his stare.

“Don’t, don’t do that, your beautiful, let me see you yeah?” he tilts your face to look at him, as if you could love this man any more.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks and his face tells you that he would not mind one bit if you said yes, which just makes your heart pound faster in your chest.

“No, I’d very much like to continue” you say. And Jane runs his hand across your face, smiling.

You can feel Jane’s cock pressing into your leg through his jeans and you shift your hips slightly. He sucks in a breath as you sit up to undo his belt.

You do it slowly, payback. But it doesn’t last long as he ends up pulling it off himself before guiding you to lie back down.

He stands up and removes his pants before coming back and resting his hands at the top of yours.

He waits.

You nod.

He pulls down your pants and can’t help but moan at the wet patch in the middle of your underwear.

Your breath hitches as he leans down and presses his lips into your clothed pussy and hooks his fingers in the line of your panties and pulls them down.

Jane frees his hard cock from his boxers and it springs up against his stomach. A drop of precum glistening on the head.

You clench your thighs at the sight. Jane reaches for the condom under his bed and rolls it down.

He pumps his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance.

You breathe in as you prepare.

Jane’s hand find your clit once more,he watches your face as his fingers circle your clit. You relax slightly as he continues his actions.

“Hey” he says softly

“I’m okay” you say.

“Take a deep breath for me darling” he places one hand on your lower stomach and the other wraps around his cock.

You do, and he slides his cock into you, slowly.

“Good girl, keep breathing for me” he soothes as he pushes his cock all the way in. Your breath catches in your throat as he pushes deeper into you.

“Keep looking at me” he says and you throb around him.

“You’re doing so good for me” he praises as he goes to rub your clit again.

“Patrick” you whisper

“Can you- I need you to go-

“I know, I know” he coos, rubbing your hips with his hand,

“I’ll go slow, I got you” he soothes before thrusting into you slowly. One of his hands is still splayed across your stomach.

“Mmhm” you whine.

“You feel so good around my cock like this” he says, pushing his cock in and out, he feels you clench around him as he speaks.

You close your eyes as he angles himself a little differently, still thrusting slowly, but his cock is hitting your g spot.

“Patrick- fuck” you choke out.

“Mm, you make the prettiest sounds” he breathes, every moan out of you sending him closer to release.

He moves his hand from your stomach as he reaches for your puffy clit, gently applying pressure as he thrusts into you.

“Patrick, I’m-

“Look at me, good girl, come for me, come all over my cock” he encourages as he presses into you again.

You hear him groan just as his cock twitched inside you and your pussy clenches,

Your toes curl and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise falling from Patrick’s mouth as you come down from your high.

“So good for me, you did so good, you’re incredible my love” he soothes, rubbing gentle circles into your hip.

You whimper underneath him. He places his hands on either side of your face.

“Jane, that was - god that was perfect you say a lazy smile painting your face. A big smile lights up his face, “I love you” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’ve wanted to say that for a very long time” he admits.

“Me too” you say shy all of a sudden, turning your face from him.

He tuts

“No honey, what did I say about doing that, now, I’ll get you a warm towel and some water and I’ll be back in a moment” he soothes as he gets up.

And you, couldn’t be happier.

#patrick jane x reader #Patrick jane imagine #Patrick Jane fanfiction #the mentalist imagine #the mentalist fanfiction #gems Christmas fics

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cambria-writes · 9 months

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i don't know what to say. i'll apologize for the previous cilffhanger and this one but i promise, swear that you will not need to wait a year for the next update. i'm... uniquely motivated to keep going. should probably be able to wrap everything up in the next 2-3 chapters.

cheers to finally having some smut! 🥂

pairing: patrick jane x named reader word count: 3,278 rating: E for explicit content warnings: SMUT, good girl used probably too much, soft dom!jane, reader is mentioned having hair long enough to grab, female reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), so much foul language, insecurities addressed, age gap solidly confirmed (approx. 10 years but you can interpret that however you want)

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔒𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔰

Your legs feel like jello when Jane pulls the door behind him. It’s still left ajar, which you appreciate, but it’s enough for you to feel isolated. Alone. An entirely jarring feeling when you felt entirely too seen not even a minute ago.

You can’t see your clothes when you look around the guest bedroom. Spartan is what you’d call it if you had to describe it, though it’s clear someone’s been using it recently. It’s not hard to imagine why; you don’t think you’d want to sleep in the room your family got murdered in, either. When you sit down on the chair by the bed, pulling at the hem of your loaned shirt, you can’t see your clothes anywhere. Not that you wanted to get dressed; that would give the impression you’d want to go home, right?

You definitely don’t want to go home yet. Not right now.

Though whatever half-awake, fragile moment you’d had with Jane before is pretty much gone with your sleepiness, there’s still something nestled in your stomach. A feeling you wouldn’t call uncomfortable, but definitely isn’t familiar. The sound of the door creaking open nearly makes you fall off the chair.

“I did knock,” Jane says, a little sheepishly. He stays in the doorway, though, hand on the knob like he’s ready to go back out.

“I’m thinking too much again,” you say quietly, with a huff of laughter. You glance up at him quickly before turning your eyes back down to your hands and the way your nails dig under the shirt hem.

You don’t hear the floorboards groan when Jane walks up to you, don’t hear anything when he couches in front of you. You don’t flinch, to your own surprise, when his hands cover your in your lap and still your movement. He waits for you, because he knows just as well as you do, somehow. You’re not even sure what’s known, just that there’s a vague sense of understanding. You take a deep breath, clear your head while you nod to yourself, and look up.

“There she is.” His smile is small but god it feels radiant to you. Warm. Safe, against all odds.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking another deep breath and letting your shoulders sag, trying to let the tension out of them. You fight the urge to look away and fidget with your hands. “Yeah, I think I’m done with my thinking.”

Jane hums and nods. “And what were you thinking about?”

“Wha—what I want,” you stutter out. You can feel the heat burning in your cheeks, which in turn just makes you even more flustered. You pinch your lips shut though.

One of Jane’s hands leaves your and moves to the outside of your thigh, just above your knee. If you thought the ‘fragile’ moment from earlier had imploded and vanished, you’re quickly realizing that it very much did not and that someone—whoever the fuck had the gall to call Jane this morning—had simply hit pause.

“And what is it that you want?”

“I don’t know if I have the words for it,” you reply, a little too quickly. Jane cracks a smile and the hand at your thigh begins a slow motion upward. “I—no, I just. It’s…”

“Uncomfortable?” He offers, and you offer a small nod. “What makes it uncomfortable?”

“Besides the overwhelming risk of rejection and humiliation?” You ask, voice pitched and quiet. When you start biting at your lower lip, the remaining hand covering yours quickly comes up to pull it from between your teeth.

“I won’t humiliate you,” Jane says slowly, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes are very obviously not looking into yours, and his thumb is still just below your lips. The hand on your thigh is as close to your hip as his arm will allow, thumb rubbing circles into the skin. When his gaze does meet yours again, all traces of a grin are gone and—god, his pupils. “What are you worried is going to be rejected?”

You exhale shakily and breathe in just as unevenly. “Me.”

“Why?” Jane looks back down and, after slowly putting a knee to the floor and effectively kneeling in front of you—the image of which is doing things to you that you wouldn’t dare mention in polite company—he carefully pulls his hands away from your face and thigh and taps at your right leg for you to lift it. He rests your foot on his knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze before moving his fingers to dig into your calf.

“I’m…” you start, unsteady, eyes fixed on the fingers working through the muscles of your calf. “I’m younger, I’m—I don’t know, I’m clueless? I got shot, I got kidnapped, I let you drag me into really, actually, really questionable situations. That’s dumb. That’s entirely dumb.”

“So you’re worried of being rejected because you don’t think you’re smart enough,” Jane summarizes, and coming out of his mouth you realize it does sound a little silly. You can’t help the shiver that makes it down to your legs when his hands make it to your knee and you can feel his fingers working out a knot you didn’t even know could exist behind it.

“...well it sounds childish when you say it like that,” you huff, and you resist the urge to cross your arms. “But yeah. Yes. I don’t feel smart enough.”

Jane gently guides you to put your leg down and taps the other one to bring it up. The same process starts again, from the soft touches at your ankle to the massaging of your calf.

“I can assure you,” he starts, voice low and cadence slow. “That you are infinitely more clever than you let yourself believe you are.” Close your eyes against the slowly increasing burn behind them and breathe through your nose. You feel warm fingers dig into the tendons behind your knee, sliding underneath your thigh to get at the muscles there.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The attraction to someone older than you, the unwillingness to believe anything good about yourself, the fact that speaking your mind feels shameful enough that your brain shuts down, but...

Jane smooths both hands over your hips, under your borrowed shirt. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath you take and the shiver that spreads out to your limbs from your spine. His hands stop their ascent at your hips, but just above the waistband of your underwear. Thumbs rubbing slow circles in the skin just above your hip bone.

You open your eyes again when you feel a soft kiss on your right knee. When you look down, the sight makes your breath catch in your throat.

You don’t think you’ve ever really understood the meaning of the word ‘reverent’ until just now.

You take a stuttering breath and lift one of your hands to rest atop the disheveled blond head in front of you. Jane exhales almost like he’s chuckling. His hands slide back down the length of your legs before he places them on the seat of the chair, on either side of your thigh. You don’t know if the lump your swallow past is anticipation or disappointment. He leans forward what feels dangerously close as he slowly stands. Pauses when his face is even with yours, and it’s a struggle to keep your eyes trained on his.

“You’re sure this is okay,” Jane asks, but it sounds more like an uncertain statement. You wonder for a second why he seems so hesitant and careful—treating you like glass even though you’ve been shot and been perfectly fine.

And then you remember the cave, the clammy demanding fingers. Close your eyes against the memory and take in a deep breath that sounds like a gasp.

But it’s fine. It is. Jane’s hands don’t feel like hers, this room doesn’t look like that, everything smells... safe. Alive and warm and safe.

“Yea-yes. Yes,” you repeat, clearing your throat and opening your eyes. “This is different,” you add, under your breath, and can’t help but let your eyes travel down to Jane’s mouth before jumping back up.

You can feel Jane’s amused exhale on your lips before he stands straight. With a gentle hand on your neck, guides you up to stand, too. It’s with a gentle tug to pull you in that he kisses you. And unlike last night, you’re about as lucid as you could be, and this is not chaste. You splay your hands over his bare stomach when he coaxes your lips apart with his. Where Patrick shudders at the touch, you can barely recognize the relieved and almost needy whine that slips from your mouth into his. The feeling of his tongue against yours has your knees almost buckling. You’re quickly steadied by a firm hand at your waist and the one at your neck sliding down to grab your shoulder.

“You need to breathe,” Patrick whispers, almost laughing, against your lips.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and the giggle that bubbles up feels foreign and almost manic. “I just—you’re so...”

“No need to be nervous,” Patrick mumbles, into your cheek this time, as he slowly moves to turn you. “I won’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

You pull back a bit too quickly to take a look at his face, but lose your footing in the process. You find that you comfortably land back on the bed, springs bouncing you back up one of twice before you settle. You barely have the time to lean up on your elbows to look up at Patrick before he places his hands behind your knees and tugs to pull you to the edge of the bed.

Your heart leaps in your throat. You really hate to assume anything and especially in moments like these but. But you’ve seen this movie—pretty much literally—and you have a feeling you know what’s supposed to come next. Jane must see the look of both shock and apprehension on your face, because where his expression has been pretty tame and affectionate, there’s something dark and hungry there when he sees your eyes go wide.

“Never had someone go down on you before?” he asks, and the crassness of it makes you remember how warm your face is. You don’t miss the way his hands are slowly creeping back up the outside of your thighs. Don’t miss the way that you have no choice but to keep your legs spread on either side of his.

“Uh, on-one, bitched the whole time, wasn’t uh,” you clear your throat again, bring your cold fingers up to your cheeks to try and dim the heat. “Wasn’t pleasant.”

Patrick clicks his tongue and shakes his head in obvious disapproval. He goes down on a knee when you feel his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your throat when he slides it over your hips, down your legs and off your feet.

“Hands off your face,” Patrick says, though the hard tone in his voice makes it sound like an order. Your hands slip down over your chest before you can even think about it. His hands slide back over the top of your thighs, glide over and around your hips, and stop to rest just over the curves of your ass. Pulls you just a bit closer with a short tug.

“Oh god, fuck,” you whisper, swallowing thickly when you feel his warm breath against your cunt.

“Double tap for me to stop,” Patrick says, but doesn’t move immediately. Lifts his head and pinches with a hand to get your attention. “Understood?”

“Yessir,” you choke out, all at once, and immediately bite down on your tongue. His eyes narrow and he—you think it’s a hum, but it sounds so guttural you’re tempted to call it a growl.

“Good girl.”

You can’t see his head very well past the shirt you’re still wearing, so your spine arches nearly clean off the bed when you feel something wet slide all the way up your slit and catch on your clit. Your throat clamps around the whine that wants to leave it, only a choked exhale exiting your lips.

You open your mouth to say something, but your mind blanks when Patrick puts his lips around your clit and sucks. You swear your see stars for a second before he eases off, letting his tongue flick over it instead. When your body loses some of its tension, the whine that was choked before comes out as a whining moan on your exhale.

Patrick goes back down to tongue your entrance, only cursorily, before returning his attention to your clit. It feels like every other time you exhale is a breathy moan. You bring an arm up to your mouth to quiet yourself—you feel embarrassed is what it is—but a nip on the inside of your thigh makes you yelp. Patrick pulls a hand forward and slides the shirt you’re wearing up to your sternum, fingers splayed wide.

“I want to hear you,” he grunts, returning his tongue to your clit. You pull your arm from your face. When you feel two fingers slide up and down your entrance, though, you let yourself reach down and thread your fingers through his hair. “Just like that,” he mutters against your cunt, sliding both fingers in with ease.

But slowly.

“Fuck, please,” you whisper-whine, angling your hips up to try and get the fingers deeper. The hand on your chest slides down, until Patrick’s whole forearm is across your hips and holding you down against the mattress.

His fingers do, blessedly, slide in deeper, but unexpectedly hook up in a come hither motion, and you nearly choke at the sensation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, tips just brushing your entrance, before thrusting them back in. Again, bends his fingers and pulls them out. Bit your lips and arch your back against the feeling. You’re realizing, on the third thrust, that maybe you don’t know your body as well as you think you do.

The fifth time Patrick pulls his fingers out, you can almost feel your orgasm in the back of your throat. He lets you angle your hips up this time. When you do, he once again seals his lips over your clit and sucks, but he also violently increases the speed of his fingers. You hope his knuckles leave bruises.

“Fuck, please,” you whine again, back arched and hips thrusting upward. You want to scream when Patrick takes his mouth off you, fingers still thrusting wildly.

“Ask nicely,” he breathes. You sob, hips still twitching trying to chase your high.

“I did, I did—I am! Please, fuck, please sir?”

“There you go.”

You don’t have time to think about the meaning of that before his lips are back on your clit, sucking, but this time he flicks his tongue over the nub.

Patrick’s fingers massage your inner wall while you come with a screamed sob that you don’t contain. At some point you register the fingers leaving and the sound of liquid hitting the floor, but you’re spent. Dazed and all but convulsing with your heart pounding in your ears and your head feeling like cotton.

And then Jane’s leaning over you, a forearm on the mattress by your head, brushing a hand across your forehead and down your cheek.

“Exceptional,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours.

“Hmm,” you whine, low, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “That’s—that’s my line.”

Eyes closed, you feel his lips on your and open up without any prying. You don’t mind tasting yourself on his tongue. You can just barely muster the energy and coherence to lift an arm up to put around his neck to pull him closer.

You can feel the bed dip at your hip where he takes a knee. The hand by your face moves to your waist and under. Too quick to register in your blissed-out state, Jane lifts you off the bed just enough to move you up a bit. Enough so that your hips are on there proper, and your legs are only dangling off the edge at the knee.

When you sigh, Jane chuckles and pulls away to take a look at you.

“All good there?”

“Better than I’ve been in a while,” you whisper, slowly blinking your eyes open. “Sorry for uh,” you stutter, letting your hand fall from around his shoulder to his chest. “For the mess.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before leaning up and back. Your hands slide down his bare chest as he does, and your heart once again leaps into your throat when you realize how hard he is. Your fingers catch and linger at the waist of the slacks he’d worn to bed last night.

“Making a mess,” Jane starts, hands slipping under yours to pop the button of his slacks. You realize that his right hand is still damp with you. “Kind of the whole point.”

You don’t realize you’re biting down on your lip until Jane grazes your jaw with his fingertips, and pulls your lip from between your teeth with his thumb. Zipper all the way down, you look up for—permission? You only pinch the fabric of his slacks to pull them down when you get a quiet ‘go on’. Once they’re mid thigh, though, you squirm a bit to be able to scooch back enough to sit up in a way that doesn’t kill your back or neck.

A gentle hand comes to rest at the back of your head while you’re focused on the cock in front of you, bulging a pair of soft-looking black briefs. Your mouth closes with a click when you realize you’ve left it hanging open.

“You never answered me earlier,” Jane says quietly. The hand at the back of your head swirls a bit before you feel fingers closing and tugging on your hair. “What is it that you want?”

You feel breathless. When you look up, you can’t tell what colour Patrick’s eyes are with how blown his pupils are. Swallow thickly and loudly. There’s a moment when you glance back down at the straining fabric over his cock that you consider asking, very nicely, if you can blow him. When you look back up, he’s leaned down and used the hand at the back of your head to tilt it up.

The first time you open your mouth, you can’t quiet get the words out. You close it and clear your throat, again, and try to ignore how your face is heating up again.

“I wan—I want you to,” you start, taking a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” Patrick croons, the hand at your head flattening out, fingers digging in like a semblance of a massage. You close your eyes to appreciate the sensation, but only for a second.

“Fuck me,” you say, eventually, blinking up at him before adding,“Please, sir.”

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls again, pulling you down to lie back on the bed while Jane leans down to join you.

“You asked so nicely,” he whispers into your throat, and you shudder when you feel his tongue run up your jugular. “So eager to please when you’re given half a chance.”

“Always,” you breathe back, putting your hands to good use and shoving both slacks and underwear over Jane’s hips to free his cock. Can’t help but cant your hips up when you feel the warm tip of it against your thigh. “Fuck, anything you want.”

Taglist

@fucklife-or-me @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger @yearningforsappho @natsukee @piper570 @rikuisthesweetestboy @berry-blink

i tagged everyone i could find in my replies but if you want to be tagged please send an ask!

#honey and the hatchet #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #patrick jane fanfiction #named reader #no Y/N #second person POV #SMUT #the slow burn is finally catching

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the-horned-witch · 2 months

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Redemption

/Patrick Jane x Reader\

Warnings: 18+, religious symbolism, shameless smut, discussions of guilt, minor mention of injury, reader has a name because I can't stand writing y/n, this was written at 4am and the writing is considerably bad

This story works best if you read it with the song playing in the background, trust me on this one

Wordcount: 1k

Mercy had dialed his number without a single thought. She had been working with the CBI for 3 weeks now, three weeks of torture. The young woman wished that it had started in a place of innocence, but that was far from the truth, the blood of more than one person staining her hands though it had been washed off over and over again. For her, it would've been jail or working with the CBI and the solution had been obvious enough.

It could've been easy, it should've been easy. It almost had, if it wasn't for Patrick Jane. Damn Mentalist. He had seen right trough her on the first day, all easy smiles and polite gestures, but he knew who she was and that knowledge had made her life hell. She had told herself that she didn't need saving, that she should turn her mind off and work, but he made it impossible.

At first it was innocent enough, small remarks about her past, about herself, but what started as banter had quickly grown into familiarity. All her life, she had been overlooked, invisible, but Patrick Jane had looked at her just once and seen her in a way no one else had ever managed to. He had never stopped seeing her, not even when she was trying her hardest to go back to beeing just another face in a world full of them.

Three weeks and she had grown to long for his eyes on her. Three weeks and she had started feeling like Judas, stealing glances at the blonde man whenever she could. He was an angel and she was nothing more than someone so lost that it could be considered beyond saving. She had been given a chance, she couldn't betray it by making it complicated. But she had to.

That was why she had called him, the silence in the line sounding static, if silence could be bothered to sound like anything. She'd said his name, quietly like she was a little girl again, her mind drifting to the nights she had spend preying to a god that had never listened to her. Patrick had listened, he always had. So not an hour later, the doorbell rang it's melody trough the melodic silence of her house.

His hair had been damp, the rain outside taking its tool on it, curling a little more than usual. Mercy had always taken note of things like that, so small they would seem irrelevant to anyone but her. Patrick did too, maybe that was why he had seen the way she hesitated as she closed the door behind the two of them. Maybe it was just that his lips had been on hers a little later.

She thought about pulling back, the feeling almost overwhelming her, not because it was rough and intense, but because it was painfully soft. She knew he had sworn to himself that he would not fall for someone until he had caught Red John, the ring on his right hand a omnipresent reminder, but this didn't have to be love. It was more than that. It was understanding, something that pulled at strings that sat deeper than love could ever be.

And for a moment, just a split second in the endless passing of time, his tounge felt like salvation, absolving her of the sins she had committed long before his hands had ever found the softness of her skin or the silk of her sheets. If giving into this, giving in to him, made her a heretic she would gladly be burned at the stake, if it would grant her just one more minute of the sparks that steadily ignited under her skin as the gentleness of his fingertips made her hiss. She would've loved to lie to herself, but she was already burning with a fire that rivaled each and every circle of hell.

Mercy couldn't afford his kindness though, her own hands clasping at the buttons of his shirt, clawing at each one like a dog that missed his owner, until she had finally managed to pull it off completely, the two of them stumbling onto the bed in a hurry as any layer that kept them from seeing the other fell to the ground.

Her hands had reached any and every place they could, by the time that her head came to rest on the pillows and in another world, they would've taken their time to savor each other properly, but in this one that wasn't possible. In this world, he looked at her, those blue eyes shattering any thought of regret, his expression softening as he gave her time to adjust to the feeling of him inside.

It was ironic, that he was the only one that could make her act like this, force her to drop the walls she had build so many years ago like it was nothing. She couldn't have known that he felt like she did the same thing to him. It wasn't long until Patrick's restraint began to fade though, slow movements turning into rough thrusts quicker than expected.

Not that Mercy minded, her nails dragging themselves down his back with a force that could've made Goliath look like the little boy that David was. He didn't even think about the fact that she'd lost control so much that the scratches on his back had left blood under her nails. Was it not also in the nature of all things soft to have some cruelty to them? He wanted her to lose control, he needed her to let go, needed her to stop the treacherous circle of guilt that had held her captive just like his arms held her now. If he was her redemption, she was his absolution. The apple in the garden of eden, just waiting to be bitten.

Mercy wished deeply that this could last forever, but the night was shorter than she had hoped and the sun broke trough the window right along with the moment that Patrick finally broke, letting himself come to lay beside her, one of his hands finding it's way to her own hand and clasping it. They didn't speak. They couldn't ruin this just yet, so the apologetic looks and sharp words would have to wait until later. For now, they held each other tightly, granting themself a few hours of much needed sleep.

#Spotify #the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader

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chasingmidnights · 1 year

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Tiger, Tiger

Title: Tiger, Tiger

Summary: Red John has captured you and he’s given Patrick 24 hours to find you.

Warnings: Patrick Jane (I feel like he deserves his own warning label); angst, angst, angst; mentions of being assaulted/battered; mentions of blood; brief character death; C.P.R.; mentions of guns/weapons; with a tiny bit of fluff at the end. I believe I’ve listed all of the warnings and I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read. If any of the listed warnings make you uncomfortable please do not read.

A/N: This is my story for the week one writing challenge, I Spy, for the @the-slumberparty event. I used a generator to come up with my theme and setting. The theme I got was ‘serial killer’ and the setting I got was ‘modern day’. So naturally, the Mentalist, ‘Red John’ serial killer popped into my head and I loved how this turned out! I hope you enjoy it!

Wordcount: 2,893

Patrick Jane had just finished making his fresh cup of tea and as he lifted the cup to his mouth, he took a deep breath in. He loved starting the work day off with a cup of tea, it helped him relax. As he took a couple of drinks from his cup he watched the other agents as they rushed by the small kitchen. They were always in such a hurry. He stole another minute to himself before he glanced down at his watch and a smile started to work its way onto his lips. You should be here any minute. He took another drink from his cup before he turned around to grab another cup for you. You loved tea just as much as he did, which was just one of the many things he liked about you. While he prepared your cup, he thought back to the day that he met you.

He had just walked into the small kitchen to fix himself some tea when he spotted you. You were using his favorite cup and before he could say anything, you were walking past him. He shook his head and snapped out of his thoughts before he called out to you.

“Excuse me, that’s my cup.”

You paused and turned around to face the person who had just spoken. “‘Scuse me?”

Patrick couldn’t lie, you were quite beautiful and he could easily get lost in your eyes. He took a couple of steps towards you, he pointed at you as he did. “That’s my cup.”

You took a drink from the cup before you examined it. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t see your name on it.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you anyway?”

You smirked at his question before you took a sip of tea and walked away, putting a little bounce in your step as you did. Patrick was in awe and all he could do was watch.

“Patrick!”

Patrick was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called and groaned. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Theresa who was calling for him, he would probably just ignore the person. He rubbed the back of his neck before he set down the cup he had gotten out for you. When he got to the bullpen workplace, he noticed how his coworkers stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. The once light and airy atmosphere that was just there a minute ago turned into a more constricted one. Something was going on, he could tell. He was about to ask his team members what was going on until he noticed it. How he had missed it was beyond him because he swore when he walked in just a bit ago it wasn’t there. He was frozen in his spot at the sight of the funeral bouquet sitting there on an easel. It sat there taunting him as if he should know better than to love again. “No, it couldn’t be,” Patrick thought to himself. He approached the display with caution as if it would out and attack him. When he reached the display, he took in a sharp breath at the words that were written on the sash, ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. Patrick could feel his whole body go numb and he knew exactly what this meant. Red John had gotten to you.

“Jane?” Theresa inquired as she gently placed her hand on his upper arm and paused, waiting for him to reply. She glanced over her shoulder to her other coworkers, concern written all over her face before she returned her attention back to Patrick. “Jane?”

At the second ‘Jane’, he finally turned his attention towards the others and demanded a question. “When did this get here?”

Grace, Kimball, and Wayne all shook their heads in response, not sure when the flowers were delivered. Before anyone could answer Patrick’s question, his phone started to ring. He pulled out his phone from his pant’s pocket and answered it instantly.

“Hello?” Patrick did his best to remain calm.

“Hello Patrick, did you miss me?” A high-pitched, male’s voice came through the receiver.

Patrick’s blood ran cold, it was just as he had thought: His worst nightmare had come to life.

“Where is she?” Patrick informed, his voice firm and doing his best to keep it even.

“She is rather pretty, isn’t she? I can tell you have a type.” Red John commented, completely ignoring Patrick’s question.

Patrick aimlessly took a few steps forward as he heard you whimper in the background. “If you do anything to her at all, I will find you and I will kill you.”

Red John chuckled at Patrick’s threat and even though he knew Patrick couldn’t see it, he smirked. “You have twenty-four hours to find her. Good luck.”

With that, Red John hung up the phone and a curse slipped from Grace’s mouth. She had quickly moved from her spot next to Wayne and over to her desk when the phone call was answered. She had typed furiously to try and trace where the phone call was coming from. “Damn it! I almost had it!”

Theresa and Patrick went over to Grace’s desk to see what she was talking about. A grid map was pulled up onto her computer screen and there were mapped out cell phone towers. She let out a frustrated sigh before she spoke up again.

“Sorry, I almost had him. I was only able to narrow it down to a certain area but it’s rather big.” Grace explained as she made a few clicks with her computer mouse and zoomed in on the area she was talking about.

“Good work, Van Pelt.” Theresa reassured her colleague. Theresa then took a deep breath before she walked to the center of the bullpen. She tucked her thumbs into her front belt loops before she started talking and giving orders. “Alright, everyone, we have a fellow agent in danger. Whatever you’re working on, I want you to bury it until further notice. We need all hands on decks. Let’s get a move on people, we have twenty-four hours!” Theresa then looked back at Patrick who gave her an appreciative nod. “We’re going to find her Jane.” Theresa did her best to be confident with her reassurance. This was Red John after all.

“I need some air.” Patrick excused himself and he was out of the building before anyone could stop him.

Kimball and Wayne exchanged looks, worry was etched onto their features. They knew what you meant to not just Patrick but Theresa as well. When you first started, Theresa had introduced you as her best friend and with a proud smile on her face. They quickly changed their demeanor as they nodded at one another and started to get busy trying to find you. They didn’t want to get told twice.

You grunted as you pulled against the leather cuffs that had you strapped to an uncomfortable wooden chair. It took a minute for your vision to become clear, you don’t remember passing out. Although, with all of the torture that you’ve endured within the past several hours, it was bound to have happened. You tried to get a good look at your surroundings again but it was nearly impossible. The only light source that the room provided was a singular, hanging overhead light. It was probably on purpose though, your captor didn’t want to be seen or to know where you were. You could feel goosebumps start to rise over your skin as you heard footsteps coming towards you. Your breath hitched when your kidnapper was finally in front of you. From what you could tell, he was wearing a mask and a hideous one at that.

“Good, I’m glad you’re awake. For a moment there I thought I had lost you. I can tell you’re a strong one though. A fighter.” Red John said, his high-pitched voice sent a cold chill through your body.

You balled up your hands and flexed them as you gritted your teeth. You needed to pick and choose your battles. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Red John stopped his pacing before he began to click his tongue. “You see, I know a lot more about you than you yourself know. But we don’t have time for that.” He paused and looked down at his watch before his shrill voice continued to pierce your ears. “After all, I only have a limited time with you and I want to have more fun.”

You tried not to wince when his gloved finger caressed the side of your face and you did your best to try and pull away. He chuckled at your attempt as his finger continued to trail down the column of your neck. Your eyes began to fill with water as Red John picked up the necklace around your neck. It felt like an eternity as Red John stood there and examined the quaint diamond necklace. Patrick had given it to you as an anniversary present. It was simple really, a single diamond on a white gold chain but you cherished it and wore it every day. A gasp escaped from you when Red John tore the necklace from your neck and pocketed it. Just as you thought he was about to walk away and leave your battered body, he turned back around and a harsh smack met your cheek.

“Boss, I’ve got something!” Grace called out, she was sure that she found your location. Not just sure but she would stake her job on it.

Just as Theresa and Patrick rushed over to Grace’s desk, Kimball and Wayne were walking back into the office. They had gone to your apartment to see if they could find anything out of place. When Patrick noticed them, he looked at them with a small bit of hope. But when they shook their heads no, Patrick returned his attention back to Grace. Kimball and Wayne immediately joined them to see what was going on.

“Alright, so I was able to do a little more digging based off of the incomplete trace from earlier. You see this satellite point,” Grace pointed to a small dot on the screen before she continued. “It was one of the ones that was blinking earlier. I checked that area and it’s nothing but woods and cabins up there. So, I ran the names of people who owned them and there’s one that stands out. A fellow by the name of Dr. Roy.”

“That’s it, it’s gotta be. Great job Grace!” Patrick confirmed before he went over to grab his jacket.

“Alright, let's move it people! Cho, I want you to call for a S.W.A.T. team and meet us there, also let them know there’s a hostage! Van Pelt, forward that address to the S.W.A.T. team and to me. Jane, you’re with me. Rigsby, I want you to call Sac. P.D. and let them know that we have a hostage situation on our hands. Let them both know that the suspect is considered armed and dangerous.” Theresa barked out orders as she double checked her gun and she received multiple ‘yes boss’s’ from her team.

When they finally got to the cabin, the teams approached with caution and they had their weapons ready. Theresa motioned for one of the teams to go around back and they did as they were told. They moved swiftly and quietly to the back of the cabin. The team in front breached the door within a matter of minutes and they immediately crossed the threshold to begin their search for you. Once they cleared the house with no sign of you, Patrick went outside to catch his breath and think. He placed his hands on his hips and just as he turned around, he noticed something in the distance.

“Theresa! I think I’ve found something!” Patrick called out to his colleague. He motioned for her to come over to him when he noticed her coming out of the cabin.

“What is it Jane?” She asked as she arched an eyebrow at him.

Patrick pulled her over to the side a few inches and he pointed to a spot in between two trees. “What do you see Lisbon?”

Theresa squinted her eyes through the narrow tree line. “Is that a barn?”

“I believe it is and I bet that’s where he’s keeping her.” Patrick confirmed and just before he could take off towards the barn, Theresa grabbed ahold of him.

“Hey, we’re doing this the right way and we’re gonna be smart about this.” Theresa ordered, her face as serious as her tone.

Patrick looked taken aback before he became just as serious as his partner. “How can you just stand there and say that?! I thought you cared about her?!”

Now it was Theresa’s turn to be the one taken aback. “That is my best friend in there and I’m worried sick about her! So, don’t for one second think that I don’t care. But this is Red John we’re talking about so we have to be smart.”

Patrick took a deep breath before he exhaled. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Just then Kimball had walked up to them with his bolt-action rifle in hand. “Cabin’s empty boss. What’s our next move?”

“Alright, get the S.W.A.T. team ready, we have another building to look through.” Theresa commanded and without saying another word, Cho walked away.

The S.W.A.T. and Sac. P.D. teams were ready to go and were waiting for command within minutes. Just as before, there was one team that waited at the back of the barn while one remained at the front. One of the S.W.A.T. team members stood across from Theresa and Patrick as he listened for any sign of movement. Once he was satisfied, he gave Theresa a short nod who wasted no time in signaling to him the okay. A loud bang filled the intense silence as the battering ram met the wooden door, causing the door to splinter. Theresa led the team inside with her gun and flashlight aimed as she called out a ‘clear’ after every turn.

When they reached the center of the large barn, Theresa scanned the room before her light landed on you. A horrified gasp escaped her as she saw the state of your battered body. Your head was hung low and you were still strapped to the chair. You were still, too still for Theresa’s liking. She took a few steps towards you but before she could get to you, Patrick had forced his way into the barn. When he caught the sight of you, he froze in his spot. Theresa tried to keep Patrick back but wasn’t able to. He easily pulled out of her grasp and rushed over to you with Theresa hot on his heels. The pair of them quickly began to remove the leather cuffs that kept you restrained. Once they had you freed from the restraints, Patrick carefully moved you from the chair and to the ground. He immediately checked for a pulse and when he couldn’t find one, he started C.P.R. right away.

After a few minutes, Patrick leaned back onto his heels as he sat on his knees. He gulped in deep deep breaths as he waited for what seemed like an eternity. The air was thick around him and he barely felt Theresa place her hand on his shoulder. Tears began to well up in his eye but before one could escape, you jolted forward and started to gasp for air. Patrick quickly scooped you up into his arms and held onto you tightly.

“Patty, I need to breathe.” You struggled to say in between deep breaths.

Patrick let out a weak chuckle before he loosened up his grip on you. “Sorry sweetheart, you had me so worried.”

You tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead. You took a deep breath before you continued. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Patty.”

Patrick smirked in response. “Oh, I know, you’re too stubborn. Theresa on the other hand was about to give up on you.”

You did your best not to laugh as Theresa smacked Jane on the shoulder. “I was not. I’m gonna go see if the ambulance is here.” Theresa gave you a small smile before she got up and left.

Patrick then cupped your cheek and gently started to caress the bloodied skin. He leaned down and gave you a meaningful kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and relished at the feeling. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to experience this again. When you opened your eyes, you took in Patrick’s face and pulled him in for a kiss. When you pulled apart, you paused to catch your breath and a weak smile curled up on your face.

“I love you Patrick.” You said in between each breath.

Patrick’s face brightened up and he grinned from ear to ear. “Hey, I wanted to say that first.”

He then leaned down and kissed you again before the paramedics came to wheel you away.

#navy and roo sleepover #slumber party event #weekly event #writing challenge #i spy challenge #the mentalist #patrick jane #tiger tiger #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane oneshot #the mentalist oneshot #simon baker #simon baker characters

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takinginspiration1 · 4 months

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Lol! This is the first time I am experiencing this.

Ok! So, I was looking for Patrick Jane X OC and I came across a story on Tumblr, which directed me to AO3.

I was happy to find the story and excited to read it. I read the one-shot and commented on the story.

In the story, Patrick confesses to OC and she just doesn't respond and goes back to sleep (it is implied that they will talk about it later). So, I commented "Wait! Did she just ignore his confession?" and the author responded "Are you worried about Patrick's feelings?" and I was like "Yes! definitely, if it were me I would have been offended." In response to this Author says "I see Patrick as a patient and perceptive character..." AND PROCEEDS TO BLOCK ME.

The author blocked me on their multiple work and removed my comments on their Tumblr post.

I am still processing what exactly happened. Did I trigger them? What was the triggering point? My opinion?

Lol, I didn't even criticize their story.

Why do you guys think happened?

#the mentalist #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane #teresa lisbon #red john #simon baker #fanfiction #fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #robin tunney #Patrick jane x you #patrick jane x yn

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brightlilith · 4 months

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What would Aaron Hotch x Mentalist!fem!reader be like?

like Criminal Minds x The Mentalist?

She would be Patrick Jane's younger sister, and works with CBI agents

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #the mentalist #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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curseofaphrodite · 2 years

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girl simps for someone in an underrated show with no fanfics anywhere 25 dead 12 injured

#story of my life #patrick jane x reader #lenny bruce x reader #malcolm bright x reader #i could go on and on #astoria talks

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cozycrimesolving · 2 years

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Patrick Jane Imagine?

Imagine Patrick taking you out for a picnic with sandwiches and tea. He picks out a quiet spot under a tree in a park on a slightly breezy day. The sky is brilliant blue with a few fluffy clouds and the sun dappled shade of the tree keeps you comfortable. If you don't like sandwiches and/or tea, he's thought of that and brought your favorite food and/or beverage because, of course, he knows. As you two eat and chat, he listens and pays attention to you like you're the only thing that matters to him in that moment. He smiles at you and his golden curls are tugged by the gentle breeze once in a while.

#Patrick Jane imagine #Patrick Jane #The Mentalist #Does this count as an imagine?#i haven't seen/made one of these in so long #Patrick Jane x Reader #if you want i mean #patrick jane fluff

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stuartprincess · 1 year

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anyone got any Patrick Jane x reader/oc fics to send my way please I love him, don't wanna read jibson and I haven't got to Marcus Pike yet, who everything on AO3 is about 😩

#help a girl out #the mentalist #patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #pls

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specialagentlokitty · 11 months

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Patrick Jane x reader - treat you right

Hi! Can you do a Patrick Jane x reader where they're working on a case and the reader keeps getting hit on and it makes her very uncomfortable and Jane is being super protective of her? - Anon💜

You didn’t hate many things, in fact, the list was incredibly small, only one thing on it, and that was sleazy bars.

And unfortunately for the sake of this case, it’s where you had to go in order to try and find some answers.

So you and Patrick were standing outside it as you looked at the door with a frown on your face.

“You don’t have to come inside.” He said.

“You’ll get yourself punched in the face if I leave you in attended.”

Patrick laughed a little and he nodded his head, walking into the bar first he held the door open for you and you looked around.

“Right, you take the bar, I’ll take these few tables.” You said.

“You sure? We can go around together. I know you don’t like these places and you’re already uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Just work.”

He frowned but nodded his head, making his way to the bar and you walked over to a table with a few bikers sat at it.

“Hey gentlemen, Agent (L/N) with the CBI, I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?”

“You got a badge?” One asked.

“Yes sir.”

You showed him your badge and let them look at it before they handed it over and nodded.

You spoke to them for a few minutes, writing down everything they said before doing to the next table of more bikers and finally the last table of young men.

“Agent (Y/N), CBI. Can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure pretty lady.” One grinned.

You ignored his comment and began asking the same questions and when you realised they weren’t going to be much help you stopped.

“Thanks guys.”

You turned around.

“You want a drink?” One asked.

“No thank you.”

Walking over to the bar, you stood next to Patrick who was talking to the bartender and one of the men walked over, standing next to you.

“How about a drink when you’re not working?”

“No.”

“Aw not even one?”

You glanced at him.

“I will arrest your for harassment.”

“Maybe I’d like that, you’re hot. Maybe I want you to arrest me.”

You shuffled a little closer to Patrick and he placed a hand on your wrist, moving you on the other side of him, and the men went to follow you.

Patrick turned around, standing in front of you.

“She said no. Stop harassing her.”

“Oh who are you her boyfriend? Get lost.”

Patrick looked the man up and down.

“Look, I get it. You’re girlfriend left you, I can’t say I blame her since apparently you don’t know who to treat a woman right. I suggest you leave.”

“Or what?”

Patrick glanced around the bar.

“You’ve gained the attention of every man in this bar, and I kind of want to punch you in the face.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Patrick turned around and looked at you, and you gave a small sign.

“I’m fine…”

“You’re not…” he whispered.

“Come on babe, just a drink! Let loose a little don’t be such a bitch!”

Patrick pursed his lips together and he turned around, in one swing he punched the man, knocking him back a few steps.

“Oh you asshole!”

The man went to hit him back but was stopped by a few other men dragging him out the bar and throwing him to the ground.

Patrick turned to look at you.

“Don’t tell Lisbon?” He grinned a little.

You turned to the bar tender.

“Is there a back exit we can use?”

“Course yeah, follow me.”

He led you through and you walked back to the car, Patrick trailing behind you.

Resting your back against the door, you held your hand out to him and he gave you his hand.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.”

You said nothing, and carried on inspecting his hand before you let it go.

Looking up at him, you sighed softly.

“You can’t just punch people.”

“He called you a bitch, and he was making you uncomfortable.”

“That’s no reason to punch him Patrick.”

You sighed again, shaking your head and smiled, walking over you hugged him, and he froze for a second before quickly hugging you back.

“But thanks.”

“I’ll punch anyone you want me to.” He beamed.

You pulled away and pointed at him.

“You absolutely will not Patrick Jane.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I won’t punch anyone else.” He laughed.

Patrick smiled down at you.

“You’re okay though, really?”

“Really. Thanks to you.”

He nodded and smiled at you, opening the car door for you to get in before closing it and getting into the passenger side.

He glanced at you, still smiling.

You deserved the world, someone to treat you like a queen, and he wanted to do that for you.

He just needed you to finally stop being so oblivious and to see that

#the mentalist #the mentalist x you #the mentalist imagine #the mentalist x reader #Patrick Jane #patrick jane x reader #Patrick Jane x you #Patrick Jane imagine

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gemstone-roses · 5 months

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I will be closing CHRISTMAS requests on Friday.

If you want anything written for your fav that is Christmas themed then time is running out!! So far I have

Hannibal: 1

Patrick Jane: 1

Bucky barnes: 1

Reminder of the original post that I would write TWO fics per character that’s Christmas themed and this does not affect ordinary requests and you can still request non Christmas themed fics as well.

Characters:

Eddie Munson

Sam Wilson

Bucky barnes

Thor

Loki

Bruce banner

Hannibal

Patrick Jane

Geralt of rivia

Olivia benson

Aaron Hotchner

Rafael barba

Otto Octavius

#marvel imagine #the witcher imagine #eddie munson x reader #hannibal x reader #patrick jane x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #rafael barba x reader #olivia benson x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #otto octavius x reader #bruce banner imagine

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cambria-writes · 5 months

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hello! thank you for holding on for so long!!

this isn't really the 3k words that i otherwise would have wanted it to be, but leaving this chapter off where i did felt a lot better and a lot less forced. and this also means there's also only 1 or 2 more chapters to go before we conclude this whole story! wild to think that i've been at it for almost 8 years. oof.

pairing: patrick jane x named reader word count: 2,559 rating: E for explicit content warnings: SMUT, fem reader, soft dom!jane, sir kink, choking, very brief mating press (i think?), it's not soft sex but it's also not rough rough, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare, we've switched from Jane to Patrick, look at us being on a first name basis, i think that's all

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢

Patrick runs his hand, finger splayed, up your chest. Between your breasts. Its ascent stops when his fingers rest just at the base of your neck. You can’t help the shiver that runs through your body, makes your spine arch and your scalp tingle. Your exhale stutters. Eyes unfocused, mind elsewhere, your body tenses when you feel him whisper in your ear.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

If you had even half an ounce of lucidity left, you would have scoffed. Called him a smartass, know-it-all asshole. Just to deflect, if nothing else.

But the breath that warms the side of your neck is immediately overshadowed by the feeling of his cock notching at your entrance. The fingers at the base of your throat twitch, dig in a little. It’s the only warning you have before Patrick thrusts forward, hilts himself inside you in once swift movement.

“Breathe,” he repeats, gasps into your ear, and you can’t be bothered. The tip of him already kisses your cervix and you’re seeing stars. There’s a supernova in your stomach, now, and all it does is want.

You don’t realize your arms have reached out to grab at Patrick until he laughs—more of an amused, harsh exhale. Your fingers dig into his ribs, his shoulders. You cant your hips up, trying to—you don’t know. You nearly choke when you swallow before trying to speak.

“Mmuh—fuck,” you sigh, unable to get the words out. Not that it seems to matter much; when the muscles in your back begin to release some of their tension, Jane pulls out of you. Slowly, specifically to play with you, you think.

And then rams back in just as suddenly, and with just as much force, as the first thrust. Throw your head back and bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. The hand at your collarbones immediately pries your hand away, trapping it by your head.

The whine that leaves you is almost embarrassing; would be, if Patrick didn’t pull back to look down at you. And, god, fuck—the expression on his face is something so proudly predatory that you don’t think you could find it in yourself to be self conscious even if you tried.

“You’re going to let me hear you,” he declares, and you resent how firm his voice sounds. You flex your fingers by your head and nod.

Patrick’s voice is almost condescending when he speaks.

“Come on,” he says, cajoling, leaning it to leave open mouthed kisses along your jaw. “You can do better than that.”

“Sir,” you hurry to spit out, the hand that isn’t trap beneath one of his making its way down from his shoulder to grasp at his—fuck, has he always been this stacked?—at his bicep. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Wasn’t so hard,” he breathes out, and pulls back out of you before setting a pace that, with anyone else, would have been thoughtlessly brutal.

But, fuck, you think maybe you needed this. Let the whines and moans fly out of your throat, try to do your best impression of a songbird. The louder you are, the more consistent, the looser Jane’s grip on your restrained wrist until he lets it go altogether. You don’t risk moving your arm at all.

Instead, Patrick pulls himself up, giving a particularly harsh thrust that makes your next breath catch. He reaches under your knees, moves his arms until your legs rest in the bends of his elbows. Leans forward and presses into you almost uncomfortably to lick back into your mouth.

Like this, you swear you can feel him up in your throat. Can’t help but whine and try to grind yourself up into him, get him deeper, somehow. Or just to move.

Whether Patrick gets the point or he’s simply sated his desire to defile your mouth, you feel like you can finally breathe again when he pulls back off of you. He doesn’t move from inside you, however. And you’re already trying to form some kind of grievance, but it trails off into a breathy moan when he offers a shallow thrust.

“You’re still thinking too much,” Patrick breathes, the grit in his voice enough to make you clench around him. He pulls out, just a bit, and shrugs your legs up onto his shoulders.

Shallow though it may be, the next thrust almost feels too deep. Toeing that fine silver lining between pain and incomprehensible pleasure. Thinking too much? You’re not sure there’s a single coherent thought left in our mind.

Patrick sets a slow pace, this time, but the depth he reaches inside of you makes that irrelevant. Every thrust, at the angle he’s keeping you at, has his cock rubbing up against the spot on your upper wall, and almost unkindly knocking against your cervix. You barely register his right hand smoothing down your thigh before you feel warm fingers brushing against your clit.

“Fuck, please,” you beg, sweetly enough, you hope, back arching and doing your best to match and bear down on his thrusts. “Sir, please sir,” you correct yourself quickly, as soon as you feel his fingers still.

Patrick throws his head back and shakes the hair from his eyes. God, he’s gorgeous.

“Don’t worry,” he groans when he looks back down at you. Like the sight of you is making you lose his mind. You hope so. You don’t know you have a mind left to lose. It seems only fair. “I’ve got you.”

He hilts himself in you in a gentle thrust, almost like an afterthought. You’re so focused on how full you are that you don’t… you don’t really think about what it means that his hands slide down to your ass. Only a zip of thrill when you see him pull a knee up on the side of the bed, before you’re unceremoniously shoved further up on the bed.

Patrick lets your legs fall off his shoulders and leans into you, bringing one hand back up to your neck while the other makes its way back down. The hand at your neck squeezes; you can breathe fine, but there’s a strange fuzziness that slowly starts to creep in. He pulls and and thrusts back in just as quickly, and eases the pressure of his fingers on the way in.

The sensation is strange, almost overwhelming, like all the blood’s rushing back to your head and makes everything sharper, clearer, just enough to feel him all the way up inside you in a burst of hyper awareness.

You’ve forgotten to breathe. He doesn’t say anything about it this time. Just smirks, in a way that makes something curl in your gut, almost sing.

“There you go,” Patrick groans, hand at your neck leaving its place for a moment to caress your cheek. When it returns to your neck, he squeezes again. “Double tap to stop.”

Through the haze, you don’t immediately realize there’s an answer expected from you. Your tongue feels too thick in your mouth and your mind can’t make sense of the words that you’re trying to say. You hum, instead, trailing off into a whine, and nod your head as best you can. Double tapping his wrist but wrapping your hand around it. I understand, you try to say, I understand, please don’t stop.

He rests his forehead against yours for a second, eases the grip on your throat for a second. And then the pressure is back, and he’s started another brutal pace. Not as deep as before, but that’s probably a blessing. Every few thrusts, he loosens his grip on you for a bit. Every time it’s like it brings you a bit closer to the edge, and every time he keeps you there until the next time.

It’s maddening.

The fingers at your clit speed up, and it only takes one more round of squeeze-and-release before you’re coming, loudly, nearly sobbing, back arching and hands weaving themselves through Patrick’s hair and pulling him down, in, closer, hips gyrating uncontrollably.

He fucks you clean through it. Doesn’t stop or even so much as slow, keeps your nerves firing and your toes curled.

“One more,” Patrick pants, leans over to brace a forearm next to your head while the other draws slow circles around, and over, your clit. “Give me one more.”

“Mhm,” you whine, nod, hips twitching. “Come inside me, please,” you rush to add, managing to bring your knees up to bracket his hips.

He groans and throws his head back again, and maybe later you’ll remember with a spark of pride how his own hips stuttered in their determined rhythm.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely,” he replied, punctuating his sentence with particularly sharp thrusts before clearly focusing on his own climax.

Which isn’t to say the fingers at your clit slow; they speed up, rushed and sloppier and rougher. But with how every nerve ending is firing like it’s the fourth of July, it doesn’t take long. The second time you come isn’t as much of a flash bang, but feels like being pulled down under a wave you’ve just barely been managing to surf the edge of.

The way Patrick groans when he comes—a gravelly, drawn-out thing—makes your body tense. He keeps himself deep inside of you, grinds himself there, before settling with an exhale. You slump back into the bed, limp, letting your hands fall from his hair.

He brushes the now-damp hair from your forehead. You immediately turn your face into his hand.

“You alright?” Patrick whispers, rubbing a thumb along your cheekbone.

“Mmh,” you hum at first, trying to will your heavy eyelids open. “‘M fine. Thank you sir,” you mumble, trying to get his hand on your cheek again.

Instead, Jane gently pats your cheek, despite your protests.

“Come on,” he says, and you can’t help but preen with how out of breath he sounds. “Yes, you can boast all you want later. Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

You moan and whine and complain, but he still convinces you to scoot up to the edge of the bed and stand on wobbly legs. He grabs your—his, technically—shirt off the floor and offers it to you. Now that your brain is slowly coming back online, you’re not sure how to feel about how… considerate that is.

You take a second to look at the shirt. Look down at your chest, bring a hand up to let fingers trail from your neck to your collarbone.

“No,” you say quietly, letting your hand fall. “I’m good.”

And, of course, the first step you take towards the bathroom finds you stumbling and nearly hitting the ground.

“A bit too fine?” Patrick chuckles, taking your hand in his to offer some of the balance you were clearly lacking.

“I thought we said we were leaving the boasting for late,” you grumble under your breath, and after a few nervous but aided steps, you make it the rest of the distance unassisted.

“I said you could boast later,” Patrick corrects. There’s a snarky reply that dies in your throat when you turn around.

Patrick Jane was clearly carved on mount Olympus and sent to the mortal realm to torment you, specifically. Especially when he puts his hands on his hips, hair wild and looking at you like he might be thinking the same thing.

“...right, bathroom. I’ll just…” You slink in and quickly, but gently, close the door behind you.

Dear god.

What the fuck.

You take advantage of the en-suite bathroom to take a shower, once you’re done with your business. The hot water feels amazing. You have no idea what kind of soap and shampoo Patrick keeps in here, but they smell divine and leave both your hair and skin feeling clean and soft. Once you’ve wrapped yourself up in the largest, fluffiest towel you’ve probably ever seen and felt in your life, you make your way back out into the guest bedroom.

While Patrick isn’t there—and you do your best not to let your heart sink too low—there is the beginnings of the heavenly smell of fresh coffee. You stop yourself halfway to the bedroom door when you notice something on the bed, freshly made, that wasn’t there before.

It’s just a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt from a university you haven’t heard of but… you don’t think about the thoughtfulness. You slip into the loaned clothes and softly pad out of the bedroom and do your best to follow your nose. The open plan of the entire house helps; even you couldn’t get lost looking for the kitchen.

Patrick’s humming a soft tune that stays just outside of memorable reach. You feel like you float to the kitchen island, perch yourself on a seat there. He’s clearly heard you; the humming’s a bit louder. And, unless you’re mistaken, it seems like he’s deliberately trying to show off while flipping… god you hope those are pancakes.

You rest your elbows on the island and rest your chin in your hands. The whole place is so bright, white-gold light illuminating everything. He looks just as divine now as he did earlier, glowing hair and flexing muscles and calm, patient movement. You don’t feel bad about ogling, not when someone’s so clearly and deliberately trying to put on a show for you.

You watch the muscles in his back shift and move when he turns around. It takes a second to register that Patrick’s holding a plate out for you, laden with—thank god—pancakes, fresh cut strawberries and bacon you’re fairly sure is vegan judging by the smell.

Not like you care. Food is food, and with a plate of food being courteously being held out for you, you finally realize you are ravenous.

“Fuck, thank you,” you rush to say, quickly grabbing the plate and the fork offered right after. You feel silly, for a second, for having zoned out for a second. But looking up at Patrick, he seems pretty… content. You couldn’t even say he looks particularly pleased with himself. Not in that cocky way you’re used to seeing in public. Or when he’s… blatantly trying to seduce you.

No, you figure he probably looks a lot like you do right now. Relaxed, loose. Content.

“Eat up,” Patrick says, nudging your shoulder with his as he takes a seat next to you at the island. When he reaches forward and across you is when you realize there has, in fact, been a fresh mug of coffee waiting for you. Offer a quick apology before reaching for the handle.

The first sip is perfect. Literally perfect. You’ve had boyfriends and actually have long time, childhood friends that still don’t know how you take your coffee. With more than a second of thought, you suppose it’s probably reasonable for the professional cold reader to know how you like your coffee.

It still feels… it’s a brand of attentive that you haven’t experienced often.

Which is why, when Patrick’s hand just very casually ends up resting halfway up your thigh, you jolt enough to nearly spill the perfect coffee all over yourself. He chuckles—something that you think sounds a bit more suggestive than maybe you thought he meant for it too—

“We’ll work on that later.”

Oh. Okay. Maybe just as suggestive as he intended, then.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@fucklife-or-me @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger @yearningforsappho @piper570 @rikuisthesweetestboy @berryblink @loonylovegood1 @clumsycopy @bigratbitchsworld @natsukee

hopefully that's everyone i had to go through my replies and comments to be sure. some didn't pull anything up but hopefully this gets to the people who wanted it!!

#honey and the hatchet #the mentalist fanfiction #patrick jane x reader #patrick jane x original female character #patrick jane x named reader #patrick jane smut #patrick jane fanfiction

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating Your Ex - ch 4

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Marcus unexpectedly runs into his ex-wife he is plunged into a world of complications where rekindled attraction and deep-seated insecurities reign. Unfortunately for him, it is also a world where his ex-wife is not the only ‘ex’ around, as a new case crosses his desk that will require all hands on deck. ✨💖Inspired by and based upon absurdthirst’s Tequila💖✨

Rating: T, I guess? But this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this series include: divorce, break ups, collegiate Greek life, underage drinking, food/alcohol consumption.** Ex-significant other stress. Teresa and Jane come with their own warning. Summary: There is no blissful morning after for these two - in fact, things are about to get a lot more complicated. Notes: Apologizing in advance to anyone who is actually an expert in antique photography, but I’m having fun researching this, so I’m just gonna keep going!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

Marcus hates his ringtone. It’s loud and obtrusive, which is the entire point when he had it turned on, but he immediately frowns when it breaks through his sleep. “Wha—” he’s disoriented for a moment, cracking his eyes open and looking around for his phone since his nightstand isn’t in the right place. “Shit.”

“Mmm?” Without even cracking your eyes open, you snuggle more deeply into Marcus’s side and mumble something indistinct when he reaches over you to get his phone from where he left it on your nightstand last night.

“Pike!” As soon as the call connects, the voice on the other end chuckles heartily. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, princess.” His supervisor’s voice is cheerful despite his usual seriousness. It must not be early anymore. “But we need you to come in. We’ve got agents from the field landing in a half hour, and they requested you specifically.”

Marcus groans as he sits up, hating the way his body immediately gets cooler away from your warmth. He swipes his hand down his face and pulls the phone away to check the time. “Yeah.” He rasps out. “Give me twenty minutes.” He tells the infuriatingly cheerful man.

“Good man.” The commendation comes through loud and clear, but he hangs up without further preamble.

“Something wrong?” You managed to peel your eyes open when Marcus sounded unhappy, and now he looks unhappy on top of it.

“I’ve got to go.” Marcus twists around and gives you an apologetic look. “They called me in, apparently there’s a new case.”

"Ah. Duty calls." You can't say you're thrilled about it by any means, but you do understand. He has an incredibly demanding job. Still, you can't help but pout. "Do you think you'll be able to leave the office for dinner tonight?"

“Yeah.” Marcus is still half asleep as he leans in to kiss you before climbing out of the bed so he can start pulling on his slightly rumpled clothes. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He shoves his legs into the suit pants and pulls them up.

"Do what you need to do. I'll probably take a shower after you leave and go to the Farmer's Market since I'm up." It's a damn shame he has to get dressed, but you're going to enjoy the view while he does. "You could just come back here after you're done?" You suggest, hopeful that he might want to spend the night together again.

“Shit.” Marcus pulls out his phone to order an Uber since he hadn’t driven over here. Luckily there is one around the corner. “Yeah, I’ll swing by my house and grab some clothes.”

"Okay. Go to work and be a superhero and I'll be waiting for you when you're done." He seems rattled and you don't want him to be stressed because of you while he's working, so you just smile and offer him one more kiss before he has to head out the door. It's unfortunate, but you won't let it ruin the day. You still got to wake up beside him and you'll see him tonight, and that is what matters.

******

Marcus hates wearing the same clothes again, but there is no helping it. He has a small toiletry bag in his desk for those late nights so he can at least brush his teeth. The Uber ride is quick, and he is at his desk and scrolling through his messages before he remembers he didn’t get your number. “Shit.”

"Uh oh." The cocky, amused voice from his open doorway drips with sarcasm. "Director Pike seems disturbed this morning. Perhaps we should go back to Austin and try again later?"

Fucking Patrick Jane. Marcus looks up from his phone to find the man who his ex-fiancée, if you could call her that, had thrown him over for a year ago. “Jane.” He murmurs evenly, not getting up from his seat. “They didn’t tell me it was you coming in.” He would have taken a hell of a lot longer if they had.

"We thought it would be a fun little surprise." Jane strolls inside with unearned confidence and his typical arrogance, followed barely a moment later by Teresa, who is wheeling an evidence suitcase at her side and sporting a small but very noticeable baby bump.

Marcus feels like if he hadn’t spent the night in your bed that the sight of Teresa’s baby belly would have been a fiercer blow. Instead it’s a dull pang that he hadn’t been deemed good enough, an old wound that just makes his brow arch. “Congratulations are in order it seems.” He says after a moment. “Hello, Teresa.”

"Marcus." She smiles but it's tight, and she positions the suitcase inside his office door before letting go of its handle. "Thank you. It's—we're excited," she admits, albeit a little sheepishly. She knows she should have ended things better between them, but that doesn't diminish the happiness she has now. Not to her. "You look good. Happy, I mean." Despite looking tired and like he's possibly wearing old clothes; Marcus Pike does have an undeniable warmth to him that she hadn't necessarily expected.

“Thanks.” Now Marcus stands, but it’s to take the evidence case from Teresa. He doesn’t mention that perhaps her husband should have been wheeling the heavy case instead of leaving it to her. Their dynamic wasn’t his issue any longer. “You have that pregnancy glow they talk about.”

“I’m halfway there,” she tells him, rubbing the underside of her belly with one hand as she sits down in one of the chairs across from Marcus’s desk. “So…we’re sorry to call you in like this, but we needed some help on a case and the guys in Austin Art Crimes are lost without you.”

His lips curl slightly and he nods. “Tell me what you’ve got, and I’ll see how I can help with the case.” He looks from Teresa to Jane, not missing the smug expression in the other man’s face. Like he was right about something, but that was usually his outlook.

“We’ve got three dead and a collection of old daguerreotypes that seem to be the primary cause of the arguing.” She tells him, glad to see Patrick start to unzip the suitcase for her. “We were hoping you could help us figure out what’s so damn special about these things.”

Marcus hums as Patrick hands him a file, flipping it open as he skims over the details of the case. Later on he will be studying the particulars. “Daguerreotypes?” He looks up at the two of them and mentally sighs, wondering how the hell this has come about so quickly. “I know someone who can examine them.” It’s the last thing that he wants, but this is for work.

“Excellent.” Jane leans on the corner of Marcus’s desk like a throne, surveying the office around him. “We knew you could help. Reliable Marcus, we said. Sitting up here in DC in your fancy director’s office.”

Marcus’s jaw tightens and he almost opens his mouth to say something. “That’s me. Director.” Which means he doesn’t have to help if he doesn’t want to.

“Is the person you know available on short notice?” Teresa asks, sensing the tension in the room like a house on fire.

“They should be.” He’s thinking about Silvia and wonders if you would be the one that wanted to work on this as her boss. “Let me make a call, since it is a Saturday.”

“Of course.” Jane shrugs carelessly, but goes to sit in the chair beside Teresa. “It’s your office.”

Marcus shoves down the annoyance that they aren’t going to leave and give him some privacy to make the call. He ignores them and picks up his phone so he can select Silvia’s number and hit talk.

“H-hello?” Silvia’s voice is uncertain on the other end, obviously confused to see Marcus’s name pop up on her caller ID a few days after breaking up with him.

“Ms. Harper.” He keeps his tone neutral, not wanting to make her think that he’s calling her for personal reasons. “This is Director Pike at the FBI, have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Not at all.” Her voice evens out when she hears his work voice and even though she’s still confused, she no longer is worried about something dramatic. “What can I do for you, Director?”

Marcus picks up a pen off his desk and clicks it as he thinks of how to phrase this. “I have some agents from our Austin field office who require an expert on Daguerreotypes. You were the first person that I thought of.”

“Oh.” Silvia cringes so hard it’s nearly audible. “Well, this is awkward. Actually…the person you really want is—is Dr. Pike. Daguerreotype conservation is her expertise…”

Shit. Marcus doesn’t react but his heart leaps before his stomach twists at the idea of his ex-wife meeting his ex-fiancée. “Okay, would you mind giving me her number?” He asks, reaching for a notepad. “Or would you rather call her and have her reach out to me?”

“I can call her, if you want.” Not knowing what sort of awkwardness might sit between them, Silvia swallows a sigh. “If she needs an assistant, she’ll be calling me anyway. So it might be both of us. When do you need the help?” Sorting through the idea in her head, Silvia is already up and moving around her apartment to put on something work appropriate to wear. Dr. Pike will definitely want an assistant.

“As soon as possible.” Marcus sighs slightly. “I appreciate it, and I’m sorry for interrupting your weekend.” He tells her seriously.

Teresa smiles when Marcus hangs up the phone. “You don’t seem very excited to see whoever that was,” she observes, trying to make light. “I hope they’ll be helpful. Thanks for making the call.”

“You’re welcome.” Marcus answers neutrally as he stands. “The conference room down the hall is available if you would like to set up there.” His office is not going to be the headquarters for this little reunion.

“Sure.” Teresa nods, lifting herself out of the chair and smiles awkwardly. “Thanks, Marcus. We really appreciate the help.”

“No problem.” His answer is just as awkward, and he looks over at Jane to see him smirking. “There is tea in our break room if you’re off caffeine.” He offers.

“I’ll let Teresa know.” Jane practically winks as he sashays out the door, leaving it wide open as he goes.

Marcus sighs and looks down at his phone, wanting to talk to you now more than ever. It’s going to be a long day. “Well shit.” He grunts, shaking his head at his shitty luck.

******

It’s about thirty minutes later that you’re meeting Silvia at the elevator in the Hoover FBI Building, dressed in nice clothes but something a little more fashionable than a suit, just because you’re heading to see Marcus again. No one can blame you for wanting to look nice today. “Let’s head up.” You tell your young team member, affixing the Guest badge to your Smithsonian employee lanyard that denotes you as a federal employee.

Marcus keeps extra dress shirts in his office, along with a casual outfit in case he needs to be in plain clothes. He decides to change into the latter, wondering if you will be disappointed that he’s in jeans and a t-shirt. It was that or his suit from yesterday and a new shirt. He walks into the conference room after changing and freshening up to start sorting through the evidence Teresa brought. “The experts should be here soon.” He tells Teresa and Patrick before he moves over to the coffee pot in the room to set it up for a fresh pot.

“Where are they from?” Jane is leaning back in a chair at one end of the conference table. “Private sector? University?”

“Smithsonian Institute.” From the doorway, You adjust your work bag on your shoulder and smooth a wrinkle in your shirtsleeve. Marcus is standing on the other side of the room making coffee and you have to bite back a smile. Even in a plain black t-shirt and jeans he’s a dream. “From the department of photographic conservation.”

Marcus wants to smile but he also doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for Silvia. Instead he nods and motions for the two of you to come in. “Thank you for coming.” He offers. “I just put a fresh pot of coffee on and later on I’ll order some food as a small measure of thanks.”

“Thank you, Director Pike.” Keeping things professional is key, you know that, but in the moment you’re also surprised to realize that the title is actually kind of a turn on. You’ll have to remember to tell him that later. “Now. How can we help?”

Patrick Jane looks between the three of you and smirks knowingly, leaning back in his swiveling chair. “Before we begin work, I think we should be introduced? Right Marcus?”

“Dr. Pike,” you make no mistake about your title and glossing past your shared last name as though it doesn’t matter at all, because for the purposes of work it doesn’t. This man, however, you already don’t like. “I am Director of Photographic Conservation for the Smithsonian Institute. My colleague is Silvia Harper. Her expertise is development methods.” Looking between the two agents seated at the table, you remind yourselves that first impressions aren’t everything. Perhaps the blonde man is simply having an unusual day. “And you are from the Austin field office, I understand?”

“Doctor Pike?” Patrick’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and it’s all Marcus can do not to audibly groan. Those smug eyes shift to him with an amused glint in them. “When did you discover your ex-wife was in D.C., Marcus?” He asks with a smirk.

Marcus straightens slightly and clears his throat. He decides to ignore the question and introduce Teresa and Patrick. “Dr. Pike, Ms. Harper, this is Agent Teresa Lisbon – er, Jane now, I guess, and professional consultant Patrick Jane.” He says.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Agent Teresa Jane stands to shake your hand and you cannot possibly ignore the small baby bump she is sporting.

“You as well,” you tell her politely, though something is tickling at the back of your mind that tells you everything is going to go sideways very quickly.

Patrick’s eyes are flickering between you, Marcus, and Silvia and after a moment he chuckles. “You are in a hot seat, aren’t you Pike?” He muses cryptically. “Director Pike, I mean.” He clarifies, grinning at you.

“Perhaps we should focus on the case.” Trying to deflect the attention off of Marcus is the best you can do right now until you can get home alone to ask what the hell is going on, and you don’t like feeling like you’re on the defensive when meeting new people. Especially new people at work.

“Patrick.” Teresa turns and shoots her husband an annoyed look. “Stop.” Patrick sends her an innocent look and shrugs his shoulders like it’s not his fault.

“I just find it interesting that he’s slept with every woman in this room.” He answers as he stands up to move over to the coffee pot. “It’s fascinating to imagine what is going through his mind right now.”

“Alright, if you’re really not going to talk about anything else until we get this out of the way, then yes. Marcus and I divorced twelve years ago.” You practically sigh and barely keep from having to shake your head. “Would it be possible to focus on the case now?” It just completely breaks your heart for him, to see the embarrassment on Marcus’s face. Whoever this man is, you officially do not like Patrick Jane.

“I’m going to apologize for my husband.” The look Teresa Jane shoots her husband would kill a lesser man, and she shakes her head. “He likes to push, and doesn’t seem to realize when he’s crossing a line into ‘asshole’ territory.” She huffs before she looks at you with an apologetic smile. “Marcus said nothing but wonderful things about you.” She promises. “He and I were—”

“Teresa was my fiancée for all of two minutes.” Marcus interrupts, done with the dramatics. “And Silvia and I were dating before I found out that her boss was my ex-wife. Now can we please focus on the case?” His tone is short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched. Furious at the tension Jane has added to the room unnecessarily.

Oh. You find yourself standing silent for a long moment while you process the information that you were just offered. That this woman in front of you is the one who last broke Marcus's heart and she did it for this intensely disagreeable, self-absorbed man with this smug smirk and shitty attitude and now they're already married and expecting a baby? The worst part of that might be that you're actually jealous of Teresa Jane for the last part of that thought. Happily married and starting a family. You really need to talk to Marcus later.

"If you would please show us the daguerreotypes? And let us know what you're looking for?" At this point you're just eager to start working and do less of this awkward talking.

There is a moment of complete silence before Teresa starts talking. “Yes, right.” She clears her throat and pushes herself awkwardly out of her own chair and leans over the conference table to pick up an evidence bag. “These are the items that we are needing – I don’t really know – examined for importance? Why are these being killed over?”

"We can do a preliminary examination here, but if there is nothing obvious, we may need to do further analysis in our lab." Glad to not have any more bullshit spewed around the room, you nod and lean over the table beside your ex-husband's – current boyfriend's? – ex-fiancée. Fuck this is complicated.

“If need be, we can sign over custody of the evidence to you.” Marcus nods before he taps a file. “I am going to go order some food. Sandwiches okay with everyone?” He needs a moment, just a few minutes to compose himself.

"Thank you." You desperately wish you could follow him out into the hall, or even send him a text, but you can't leave Silvia to deal with these vultures from the Austin office just yet. Patrick Jane would eat her alive.

Marcus strides down the hall, closing the door to his office with a sigh. Of all the fucking agents to come to D.C., it had to be Teresa Jane and the walking windbag she married. He closes his eyes and gives a low chuckle. He doesn’t even want to know what you think of him right now.

It's only about five minutes later that a rhythmic knock sounds from the other side of Marcus's office door and you stick your head inside. "Hey..." The expression you offer him is pure sympathy. "One Jane had to take a phone call from Austin and the other one had to use the ladies' room. Can I come in or are you hiding from me, too?"

“Hey.” Marcus stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “No – I’m not, it’s okay – you can come in.” He shuffles awkwardly and shakes his head. “This is not how I imagined my Saturday going.”

"Me either." Slipping inside, you shut the door carefully and take an awkward step toward his desk. If it were anyone but his ex-fiancée out there, you probably wouldn't have any problem going straight to his arms for a kiss, but it is. So things are awkward. "So...that's her, huh?"

Marcus blows out a raspberry and reaches up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “That’s her.” He murmurs quietly. “Of all the rooms I never wanted to be in, that was in my top three.” He jokes weakly and flashes you a grin. “So now you know who left me and who she left me for.”

"He's awful." Screwing up your face into a fairly disgusted expression to hopefully make him laugh, you end up just shaking your head and stepping closer, making it easy for him to slip into your arms if he wants to be there. "I can't be mad that she left you, though. If she hadn't, that would be your baby she's carrying and not the narcissistic blonde's. And we wouldn't be...whatever we are now."

You have a very valid point. Marcus hums, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours while he wraps his arms around you for a much-needed hug. “Can this be a bad dream and we are actually still wrapped up in your bed?” He pouts playfully. “Please?”

"I'll get their evidence analyzed and send them away again as soon as I can." Having him back in your arms again, even after only a few hours, makes you hum happily, and you give his waist a gentle squeeze. "Tonight we'll do whatever you want for dinner and then exhaust ourselves with more sex." You grin up at him. "Sound good?"

“Sounds perfect, but I have a feeling the Janes are here for more than a day.” Marcus huffs. “I’m sorry.” He leans in and kisses your lips. “He is…something. And I know he embarrassed you.”

"He's smug, but honestly I feel worse for Silvia than anyone else. She got wrapped up in all this by accident." A kiss from him, especially right now, makes you nearly melt into the floor. It's soothing and reassuring all at once. "You don't have to apologize, love. Just don't mind me if I'm a little extra lovey when we're not working? This is...it's so new. And it's more than a little awkward in that conference room."

“I don’t mind.” Marcus promises. “I think you need to buy Silvia’s drinks during brunch with my credit card.” He huffs. “As an apology from me.”

"That's extremely sweet of you, and I'm sure she knows you didn't pick all this." Placing a kiss on his cheek, you give him another squeeze and really do your best to keep smiling. "Have you ordered lunch yet or have you been stewing in here?"

“No, I ordered lunch.” Marcus promises. “I might kill Patrick Jane if I am around him too long on an empty stomach.”

"I'll throw a shovel in the back of the Mini Cooper and we'll drive the body up to New Jersey. Nobody thinks twice about finding a body in New Jersey." He manages to smile at the joke, and right now you can't ask for more than that from him. "I'm sorry today isn't the relaxing afternoon we had in mind, baby. But at least we're together, right?"

Marcus sighs, nodding at your logic and holds you close for another second before he reluctantly lets you go. “Did you find anything interesting about them?” He asks. “Anything that stands out right away?”

“Nothing jumped out at me.” You shake your head, feeling frustrated that the answer was not easy so you couldn’t just send them away again. “I’ll have to take a look at them at the lab.”

Marcus nods with a small sigh. Disappointed that he can’t send the Janes back to Texas quickly, but he’s not surprised. “Thank you for giving up your Saturday.” He can’t help but caress your back as you both turn towards the door.

“It’s okay.” Before you reach his door, you flash him a grin and shrug one shoulder. “This super hot FBI agent that I kinda have a thing for needed my help, so I’m glad to do it.” You tease, always working to put that smile back on his face. “I’d do anything for him.”

“Yeah?” His grin is slow to arrive, but it blossoms beautifully on his face and there is almost a shy quality to it. “That’s good to know.”

“Yeah.” The nod you give him has no hesitation. There is a lot to say, but it’s a good start for now.

“I need to go back in there.” He admits with a small groan. “I’m sure Patrick Jane would find it more amusing if I hid in my office the entire time.”

“We’ll go together.” It may not be office appropriate to stroll down the hall holding hands, but you’re not going to leave his side when he’s having a hard time. You’re stronger than the girl you used to be.

“He’s not going to bother me.” Marcus decides, opening the door for you to walk out first.

“Well, well.” The second you want back into the conference room, Patrick Jane is smirking again. “Ruffled feathers all smooth again, Doc?”

“Mr. Jane,” you shake your head and move back to the evidence on the table. “Not everything needs to be made into a circus act. Let’s just focus on the case, shall we?”

Patrick’s brow arches up and a slow transformation takes his smirk to a grin. “I like you.” He tells you before he looks at Marcus from where he is sitting with his feet up on the conference room table. “How did you let this one get away, Pike?”

“That isn’t relevant to the case, I’m afraid.” You’re not going to let this infuriating man get under Marcus’s skin. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to have you sign over custody of the evidence to the Smithsonian, Agent Jane.” Looking up at the other woman – the one who had turned Marcus over for a man made of arrogance and hair gel – you almost shrug. She clearly isn’t pleased with Patrick Jane’s behavior either. “If you would be good enough to leave me your card, I can contact you when I’ve found something.”

Teresa fishes into the pocket of her suit coat, pulling out a card holder with brand new cards inside. Proudly proclaiming her ‘Special Agent Teresa Jane’ on the stiff card stock along with her numbers and her email address. “Maybe—” She hands you the card and glances over to Marcus before meeting your gaze again. “Let Patrick pay for dinner for you and Marcus tonight. To apologize for his behavior and to thank you for your assistance.” Silvia is across the table from you, eyes studiously on the photos as if she could block out the scene around her.

“Sil?” There is clearly some conversation that needs to happen, and you hate that you couldn’t have had more than a few minutes with Marcus in his office. Your young colleague’s head pops up and you offer her a half-smile knowing she must be overwhelmed. “If you could go back to our office to open and prep the lab for when I bring the evidence back, I would appreciate it.”

“Yes ma’am.” The look of pure relief on her face is palpable. “I will do that right away.” She doesn’t hesitate to peel her gloves off and gather her things as if the hounds of hell were on her heels and nipping. “Nice to— uh, bye.” She manages before she dashes out the door.

It does the trick in a way you never expected, and you actually find yourself holding back a laugh at how fast Silvia just bolted from the room. “I don’t blame her,” you admit finally, shaking your head and producing one of your own business cards from your work bag to hand over to the agent from Texas. “And I appreciate the apology, Agent Jane, thank you. The situation seems to have taken us all by surprise.”

“My husband seems to think that his brilliance makes up for his appalling lack of manners.” She throws a glare over at Patrick who is completely unrepentant with a slight shrug as he slouches in his chair and plays with the pen that Marcus had brought in.

“More sandwiches for us.” He points out. “You said you were hungry.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Teresa laughs unexpectedly. “I’m always hungry now.”

“And our reliable Marcus remembered your favorites and made sure to order it along with whatever was Silvia’s and the former Mrs. Pike’s.” Patrick hums. “He’s a Boy Scout like that.”

“It’s called having manners and a good memory.” If you don’t just straight-out smack Patrick Jane before the end of this case it will be a miracle. And maybe a shame.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs. “Annoyance lets details slip and he’s dying to know the story. Beyond what I told Teresa.” He had no doubt that his former fiancée must have talked about their relationship with Jane. Even going so far as to impart seemingly obscure facts, but Jane had the memory of an elephant.

“We ran into each other again by accident a few days ago.” While you won’t go into detail about the past until you and Marcus have been able to check in with each other about it, the present is a fairly easy tale. “I’m sorry it’s not a more interesting story.”

“Patrick, stop.” Teresa’s tone turns stern. “Or you’ll sleep on the couch at the hotel.”

Marcus has to look down at the file in front of him so he doesn’t laugh, enjoying the way Jane suddenly looks a little more repentant than before.

Considering he miraculously had not opened his mouth this time, you have to assume that he was bothering his wife under the table and you barely bite back a smirk of your own. “So where did these come from?” You ask, motioning to the daguerreotype cases. “Or is that not information you can share?“

“It was found in the house of one Marquis De Sade - not the French nobleman, obviously.” Teresa smiles at the unique name that had made her scratch her head until she placed it. “De Sade was 87 when he passed, and the case involves his will. The people who are set to inherit his estate have been dying. And these daguerreotypes seem to be at the center of the conflict.”

“Interesting name.” You raise an eyebrow but studiously avoid looking at Marcus. That will only feed the flames of teasing. “So far the only unique thing about them is that many are of locations instead of people. The vast majority of daguerreotypes were portraits. Perhaps these locations mean something to the family?”

“It doesn’t seem like it from the case file.” Marcus tells you, looking over at Teresa. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“There were some papers in the case containing the images that I can have scanned and sent over to us.” Teresa nods, remembering the stack of decaying pages that they had considered too fragile to transport. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Looked like poetry and journal-style writing. But maybe it might make sense to you in conjunction with the images?”

“We can try.” You nod your head and look back down at the plate in front of you. It shows a break in a river with a small grove of seedlings surrounding it and the sun low in the sky. It’s beautiful, but not typical for a daguerreotype image.

Marcus hums. “Are there coordinates on the plate or maybe a location written?” He asks, wondering if they can plot where the images are from to come up with a map.

Carefully flipping some of the wooden cases over in your gloved hands, you find to your dismay that not all are marked with information. Some bear names that you can only assume are the surnames of the subjects, others have initials, and some have nothing at all. But one box bears the inscription ’Johnson’s Ranch’ in scrawling, decaying pencil. “Johnson’s Ranch,” you read out loud, looking at the three others in the room with you. “Does that ring a bell to anyone?”

“There have been thousands of ranches over the years.” Teresa shrugs slightly. “If we had a region, maybe we could dig through property deeds.”

Begrudgingly you have to admit that that makes sense, but you appreciate the fact that three more heads bend over the small wooden boxes containing the antique forms of photography. “J.R.C.” You read the initials from another box out loud, and then from another: “Truck L.k. This one looks like letters have rubbed off over the last century and a half.”

Marcus writes it down on a notepad and nods. “Okay, that’s a start.” His phone buzzes and he looks down at it. “That’s the food.” His eyes slide to Patrick Jane. “Play nice.” He warns before he stands up to walk out of the conference room.

“J.R.C. May be Johnson’s Ranch and a state or city designation?” You look up from the boxes before pulling out your cell phone to collect images. “Is it alright to take pictures of the cases?“

“Whatever you need, just remember that this isn’t public.” Teresa cautions. Marcus might trust you because you are his ex-wife, but she hasn’t worked with you professionally.

“Of course.” You would never post any of this to social media, that would be ridiculous. But this way you can take snaps of the writing on the case to look over while the four of you eat. The daguerreotypes won’t be safe on the same table as food.

“All of this will need to go back to your lab.” Patrick muses. “Which must mean keeping in touch with the former flame.” He smirks slightly. “Interesting he was in yesterday’s clothes when we arrived and yet he does not have your number.”

“Is that interesting?” You arch one eyebrow at the insufferable blonde who clearly has no intention of behaving like Marcus requested. “You like to infer things. Don’t you, Mr. Jane? To see how much you can trick people into giving away.”

Patrick gives you a smile. “I see what he likes about you.” He muses, leaning forward and reaching for a notepad to write something down on.

And I see what he does not like about you, you think as loudly as you can without saying it. Instead, you reach into your work bag when you have discarded your gloves and extract one of your own business cards to give to Agent Jane. “Since it looks like you’ll be here for a few days, this is how you can reach me.”

“Thank you.” She huffs and rolls her eyes towards her husband. “He’s not as bad as he first seems when you get to know him.” She says quietly as she rubs her baby bump. “He’s a little insecure since it’s Marcus that we need help from.”

“I see.” It’s juvenile to say the least, but again, you can’t really be upset. Teresa Jane’s poor decision to marry Patrick meant that Marcus was single in D.C., and that had opened the door to the two of you ending up in bed together last night. “Well, I can’t say I understand the urge to be mean spirited, but seeing your spouse’s ex can be stressful.”

“I’m not trying to be mean.” Patrick almost pouts, frowning slightly. “I like Marcus Pike. I was jealous as hell of him while he was with Teresa.” He tells you. “It took getting on a plane to beg her to stay to get her to choose me.”

“I’m sure the pilot must have loved you for that.” Despite yourself, you shake your head to hide a cracked grin. It might be a romantic story to anyone who wasn’t currently in love with the guy who got dumped because of that stunt. “Marcus is a good man, and he will always do anything he can to help. It would be kind of you to be professional, that’s all.”

“Okay. I will stop making remarks.” Patrick sighs and it’s Teresa’s turn to grin evilly. “I know how you can make it up to them.” She teases, almost in a singsong voice.

“Really, Agent Jane, it’s fine.” You don’t know if you want this can of worms to be opened, and you especially don’t want to know why they just assume you and Marc are back together so easily. While true, it’s irritating on a base level that there are strangers in your business.

Teresa heard nothing but annoyance in your tone, so she decides to back off. “Alright.” She nods and holds up her hands.

“I—I apologize.” Realizing what you must have sounded like, you sit yourself down at the table and take a deep breath. “I’m afraid I might be a little…on edge.” It’s not your favorite thing to admit, but if anyone should be able to swallow their pride about Marcus, it’s you. “I find it unsettling to have my circumstances read as quickly and easily as you and your husband have apparently been able to do. I’m very sorry if I seem standoffish because of it. There is no reason we can’t be friendly.” If nothing else, it would probably help the case go more smoothly.

“No, we were in the wrong.” Teresa insists. “I know personally, I was just happy to see the spark back in his eyes. You can just tell, you know? When he’s in love?” She gives you a small smile. “He can’t hide it and he lit up for a second when you walked in.”

"He's never exactly been subtle." It makes you laugh a little, how true that is, and you end up nodding in acceptance. "I suppose you're right. That would be a dead giveaway."’

“At first I thought it might have been the other woman, but then – I just knew it was you. Especially since—” She gives a small shrug. “I won’t intrude on your personal life anymore, but I’m glad to know he’s happy.”

"That's all I want for him." You admit, hearing footsteps approach in the hallway. "Just to make him happy."

Marcus is happy to see that you haven’t started brawling with Patrick and he holds up the bags. “Food’s here!” He tries for a jovial tone, knowing a full stomach can go a long way to soothe tensions.

"Thank you." There's no hesitation or mannered politeness when you smile at him this time. The cat is out of the proverbial bag, so you can just let yourself be happy to see him.

He wonders what’s been said while he’s gone, but again, he’s just thankful he’s not having to pull you off Patrick. He sets the bags down. “Patrick, you got the pastrami on rye, extra mustard.” He says as he searches for the sandwich. “Teresa, the Turkey club with extra bacon and no tomato.” He grins and looks over at you before he pulls your sandwich out and hands it to you, “Did I get it right?”

Unwrapping your lunch from the waxy deli paper, you grin when the dietary staple of your college years - a chicken Caesar salad wrap - is unveiled before your eyes. "Extra parmesan and pepper?" You grin, unable to stop yourself even the tiniest bit. Not that you care anymore. It's been years now since you've had one of these and the nostalgia is so warming. "It's perfect, Marc. Thank you."

“Ma— oofffff—” Patrick flinches and grabs his side from where Teresa throws a judiciously placed elbow to stop him from commenting. “Owww.” He complains, but his wife just rolls her eyes and ignores his dramatics.

“If there’s salt and vinegar chips in that bag, I will name the baby after you.” She jokes, her grin making sure Marcus knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted jest. The added fun is that it makes her husband immediately frown.

"I hope it's a boy, then." Amused at the dismay on Patrick Jane's face, you hand the bag of kettle cooked salt and vinegar chips over to Agent Jane before dumping the other bags out onto the conference table. One of those bags of Baked Lays is definitely for you and it only makes you smile harder.

“There’s also a tuna on wheat here with extra onions.” Marcus offers, knowing Silvia won’t be back.

“0h gimme.” Teresa makes a grabby motion as Patrick groans at the idea of onions. “What? I’m eating for two.” She huffs at her husband.

"I'll have to put some extra snacks in my office for the week, so there's something there if you need a snack while you're at the lab." Marcus's ex or otherwise, a pregnant lady needs access to snacks. That's just how things work.

“Oh, bless you.” Teresa nearly salivates at the idea. “You are really kind. I’m constantly hungry or tired.”

"I have a couch in my office, a mini-fridge, and a basket on my bookshelf filled with snacks. You're welcome to rest or grab something to eat anytime you need. Just let me know if you have any aversions, okay?" When Marcus looks at you like you've sprouted an extra head, you can really only shrug. "My sister had really bad food aversions when she was pregnant with my niece. I had to get creative with my cooking when she came to visit."

Teresa grins at you. “I like you.” She hums before she unwraps her sandwich and starts tearing into it like only a hungry pregnant woman can. Moaning at the first bite and immediately reaching for the chips to add more flavor.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #ex wife reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #Teresa Lisbon #Patrick Jane

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little-diable · 11 months

Text

Mind Games - Aaron Hotchner 2/5

Here we go, part two to this series. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader had once worked with the CBI, trying to help Patrick Jane catch Red John. Now, as she is part of the BAU and dating Aaron Hotchner, her past is coming back to haunt her. Will her team be able to support her through it? Will her relationship survive her clash with old times, memories she had been running from and a run in with her ex-lover?

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, flashbacks to smut, possessive Aaron, jealousy, typical CM violence, reader's emotions are all over the place, mentions trauma

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader, past Patrick Jane x fem!reader (2.4K words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Part 1 Part 3

“Time to wake up, agent (y/n)!” She struggled to open her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the darkness she was trapped in. Her heart began to pick up its beat, reminded once again of the situation she found herself stuck in, with her wrists and ankles bound. A piece of fabric had been forced into her mouth, gagging the agent to keep her quiet, pressured to listen to the man’s rambling.

“You’ve been out for some time, we should make this a bit more interesting to pass the time till Patrick Jane finds his way to us, don’t you think?” Her eyes could make out the frame of a man, standing a few feet away from her, gloved hand holding onto a knife. She heavily swallowed, blinking away the tears that began to well up, praying that her team would find her before she could be ripped from this life.

(Y/n) couldn’t remember how she had ended up here, how she had found her way into this very room, wherever it was located. All she could think of was the last interaction she had shared with her lover, pressed against his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat as he let her in on a few of his tricks, picking up on the way criminals were behaving.

“Oh, sweet (y/n), there’s no need to cry, we’ll have our fun.”

“Welcome, please take a seat.” Penelope was watching her team arrive, shooting them a sweet smile in a desperate need to distract them from the tiredness filling their systems. (Y/n) was the last one to step into the conference room, accompanied by a group of people the BAU team hasn’t met yet. Her eyes were empty, swimming with something no member of her team could piece together, not even her boyfriend. Her mind kept pushing her back into the memories she had been running from, memories that were now triggered by crossing paths with her old team.

It hadn’t even been an hour since Patrick had turned up at her apartment, wearing his signature smirk on the lips (y/n) had kissed numerous times before.

“Who is this, (y/n)?” Aaron’s voice carried something she couldn’t pinpoint, an almost possessive tone she had never picked up on before.

“Patrick Jane, I’m sure she’s told you about me.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but give into the chuckle wanting to bubble out of her, pulling Patrick in for a hug before she allowed him to step into her apartment.

“Patrick, that’s Aaron Hotchner, my boyfriend.” She watched them shake hands, but while both men seemed to profile one another, (y/n) got stuck on the all too familiar mix of emotions Patrick had always pushed through her, torn between love, curiosity, and fear. “I called Patrick this afternoon, we’ll solve the case quicker with my old team around.”

“Thanks to (y/n) we have some help with this case, this is Teresa Lisbon, Kimball Cho, and Patrick Jane from the CBI. They have worked with (y/n) on this case back in California, and will help us with finding whoever is doing this.” Aaron’s voice filled the conference room, eyes flickering to (y/n)’s, even though she had her gaze directed onto the screen, showing the daunting red smiley she had seen one too many times before.

“Another victim was found just an hour ago, a woman in her twenties. The same smiley had been painted on the wall of her bedroom.” Penelope clicked through the pictures, showing the two teams the blood covered crime scene. For a few moments the room was filled with silence, a silence that was unexpectedly broken by Patrick Jane’s bright laugh.

“This wasn’t Red John. It’s a copycat, a good one, but a copycat nevertheless.” Patrick rose from the office chair, stepping closer to the big screen.

“How can you know that?” Spencer was the first to speak up, eyes fixated on the blonde haired man. Patrick didn’t seem to spare the youngest member any attention, eyes finding (y/n)’s, who had been following his frame around.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t picked up on it yet, honey.” (Y/n) felt Aaron growing tense next to her, focusing on the same nickname he used for her, a detail the rest of their team also seemed to pick up on. Not once had she shared her history with Patrick, hadn’t let the BAU in on what she had experienced back in California, secrets that were now back to haunt her.

“It’s the eyes, they are too straight.” A proud grin tugged on Patrick’s lips, making his way back to Teresa and Cho who were all too used to the dynamic (y/n) and Patrick have shared ever since crossing paths.

“I don’t know how you endure being around him all day long.” Cho’s voice filled their office, drawing a gleeful chuckle from Patrick. (Y/n) was sitting next to him on his sofa, sipping on her tea as she listened to Patrick share a few facts he had picked up on today. She didn’t spare her colleague's teasing a thought, too focused on the man next to her, fully entranced by every word he spoke.

“It’s only a matter of time till they’ll run away together to get married in Mexico.” Rigsby’s teasing was interrupted by Teresa’s call for them, ripped away from their bubble of calmness as another case forced them to snap into motion.

“Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to drive to the crime scene, see if you can find any neighbours that heard or saw something. As long as we don’t know who we are dealing with we will keep our focus on the Red John story line. Reid and Rossi, I need you guys to look at the other case again, see if we can find similarities, besides the smiley. (Y/n) and I will contact the victim’s friends and family.” Once again did Aaron’s voice manage to rip her out of her memories, rising to her feet as the others began to pack their things.

“We will follow you to the crime scene.” Teresa and Cho began to make their way out of the room, waiting for Patrick to rise to his feet, but he didn’t, eyes not straying from (y/n)’s once. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the tension between the two, wondering what kept them tied together, unable to bite down the jealousy simmering deep inside of him, threatening to take over his system like a wildfire.

“I will stay here. (Y/n) and I have some catching up to do.” Before (y/n) got the chance to reply, Aaron had cleared his throat, forcing all eyes to focus on him.

“You’ll have enough time to catch up once we close the case, (y/n) with me.” Perhaps he had expected her to blindly follow him out of the room, but she didn’t, she stayed put. Her emotions were torn, unable to focus on either one of the men that stared at her, and yet she heavily swallowed, shaking her head at Aaron.

“Give us a few minutes, I’ll meet you in your office.”

“Here? Are you insane?” (Y/n) was heavily panting, body pressed against Patrick’s sofa. The smirking man was towering over her, hands undoing her blouse, freeing her from the fabric he had wanted to rip off her body ever since this every morning. Their office was empty, no living soul was around, and yet (y/n) couldn’t bite down the thrill of adrenaline that shot through her, wondering if somebody would walk in on them.

“Not like it’s the first time I’m fucking you here, now is it?” Patrick murmured his words against her lips, hands wandering down to her black trousers, desperate to feel her naked skin pressed against his hands. She couldn’t help but admire him, heart fluttering with love thumping through her body, praying to whoever was listening that they’d never be forced to part ways.

“I didn’t think you’d ever end up with a man like him.” Patrick broke the silence filling the conference room, forcing her eyebrows to furrow, not understanding what he meant by his words.

“Who did you think I’d end up with?” It was a whisper, nothing more, as if she was scared to wake the demons lurking in the silence she had been running from for months. Her heart was pounding in her chest, not expecting her body and soul to react to Patrick’s closeness like this, making her feel as if they had never parted ways, as if she was still sharing her bed and heart with the mentalist.

“Me.” She heavily swallowed, gaze averted as she no longer could endure looking at her ex-lover. The pain she had buried all those months ago was now crawling back to the surface, one with the soil it had been buried in, a cold, daunting feeling that forced goosebumps to rise on her arms. “You ran, from me, from us. I don’t know why, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ll ever understand why. It took me a long time to accept that you wouldn’t come back.”

“I am glad you’re here, I really am.” She rose to her feet, blinking away her tears as she once again fled from the conversation she and Patrick should have shared months ago. Her eyes met Aaron’s from afar, called closer towards her boyfriend, finding shelter in his almost dark office. No words were shared as he closed the blinds, all too conscious about the way she was trembling, how she begged him to pull her in for a hug.

Aaron needed a few moments to spring into action, hands pulling her against his chest, cradling her as if he was trying to protect her from whatever she was running from.

“I don’t like the way he is speaking to you, the way he is looking at you. You’re mine.” (Y/n) wasn’t used to the possessive undertone of Aaron’s voice, and yet she didn't get any time to focus on it, pulled into a kiss that left her insides flaring up with heat. Aaron’s hands had a tight grip on her waist, fingertips digging into her covered flesh, hoping that he could remind her that she was his, his to love, his to claim. He gave her a small push, darkening eyes settling on her features before he spoke a calm, though awfully cold, “Onto your knees. Seems like we need to remind you who you belong to.”

(Y/n) dropped to her knees without any protest, hands undoing his belt like she had done numerous times before. Aaron’s cock was twitching in her grasp, needing to feel her lips wrapped around him, forced deeper into her mouth to make her choke.

“C’mon, be a good girl for me, open.” She parted her lips for his cock, taking him as deep as she could, already struggling to keep on breathing. Aaron wasn’t gentle, he grasped her hair tightly, not giving her a chance to move away from him, hips snapping against her face. Tears dripped from her eyes, salty tears that left their trail down her cheeks, and yet neither (y/n) nor Aaron wiped them away, too focused on the bobbing motion of her head.

“You belong to me, you’re mine, and he won’t ever get to touch you.” Her mind forced her to focus on Aaron, trying to distract herself from the memories she shared with Patrick, the lover she had once thought of marrying, a man that had been perfect for her, in every form and shape, torn apart by the trauma she hadn’t been able to work through. “Say it, say you’re mine.”

Aaron pulled her away from his cock, groaning as her hand replaced her mouth, pumping him with skilled fingers. She repeated his words, not daring to break eye contact, tongue exposed to him as she felt him growing closer, about to release himself. His groan ripped through him, echoing through the room, followed by a hiss. His cum painted her tongue white, forcing her to swallow as a few praises left the tall agent.

“I love you, Aaron, there’s nothing you need to worry about.” She was pulled to her feet, sharing a sweet kiss with Aaron before they gave one another some room to breathe, settling on his sofa to work through the files. But their silence didn’t last long, interrupted by impatient knocking on his door.

“We got a letter, it’s addressed to (y/n) and Patrick Jane.” JJ’s voice forced the two out of Aaron’s office, making their way back to the conference room. Penelope, Reid, Rossi, and Patrick were watching them approach, while JJ pushed the letter into their hands, allowing them to read through the words that had been written with red ink.

“Are you ready to finish our game, (y/n)? This time around Patrick Jane won’t get to take you from me again.” Aaron read the words out loud, jaw muscles clenching as he gave the letter back to JJ. All their eyes were trained on (y/n), who couldn’t break eye contact with Patrick, frozen to the ground.

“It’s time for you to tell us what is going on here, between the two of you, (y/n).”

#Aaron Hotchner smut #mind games #Patrick Jane imagine #Aaron Hotch x Reader #criminal minds imagine

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