cw/tw: sexual themes, obsessive behavior, dub con, mature language, violence, intimacy (If I'm missing any tags pls let me know and I'll edit to add)
We only accept compliments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms
Word count: 800
Jason was screwed.
He wasn’t entirely sure when you became the only thing he was capable of thinking of but it was starting to become a huge problem.
Starting with Tim thawing him out after a botched patrol on Mr. Freeze because he was too busy zoning out trying to decipher the exact color of your hair, or when Dick had to carry him back to the mansion because he got stabbed in the leg during a fight with Victor Zsasz while thinking about what your favorite coffee flavor might be.
He'd never been distracted in the field before but he was struggling with caring about that. Struggling with thinking about anything not related to you. Because what was more important than you?
But you couldn’t have been that important to him, right? You’ve only known him for a year and while you’ve definitely gotten closer, there’s no way he was obsessed with you…
Except…
He definitely was.
He found himself thinking about all aspects of you. Writing down notes about how you loved sour candy (the song and the flavor.) How you could recite all of Hamilton from memory, but couldn’t remember if you turned the lights off before you left the apartment. He loved that you were double jointed, but also the clumsiest person he had ever met.
But his favorite thing about you was how you smelled.
It was never quite the same, but it was always exquisite. Sometimes it was floral, and when he was massaging your scalp after you washed your hair, he wondered if you’d be mad that he used your shampoo to get himself off.
Other times it was fruity and it reminded him of a ripe peach and how you would get so wet you would drip down his fingers while he was going down on you.
The worst is when it was musky. Because then he could only imagine the scene of you on your knees taking all of him, like no one had ever done before.
Your scent drove him crazier than any prank Steph could pull on him, or any villain he could go up against. The way you smelled was an aphrodisiac like no other. There was just one thing missing...
It all came to a head that night when you walked through the door looking absolutely exhausted. You shut the door behind you, tossed your keys into the bowl on the table and shrugged your jacket off onto the loveseat in the living room. You walked over to Jason who was sitting on the couch watching Vanderpump Rules, not that he would ever admit it to any of his siblings, and plopped down next to him.
You we’re tired as fuck and could only think about the douche who spilled a whole pot of coffee on your apron and later, got so drunk that you had to help carry him to his friends car.
But Jason’s mind was elsewhere. He smelled you the second you walked in the door, and you smelled off… Like something? No, someone else. He glanced over at your tired face and knew you weren’t aware of how his obsession with your scent was driving him crazy, but he knew what he had to do to fix it.
He slowly stood, hovering over your worn out body and picked you up, lifting with his knees. You tried protesting, but knew it was futile. When Jason wanted to care for you, there was nothing you could do to stop him.
He brought you into the bathroom and slowly began undressing you. He took his time. It wasn’t sexual, but it was intimate. Once you were down to just your undergarments, you expected him to be all over you teasing your panties off with his teeth, but he surprised you by lifting your arms above your head, taking your undergarments off and placing your body into the shower.
He washed your body with great care, allowing you to relax against him while he took his time cleaning the smell of the day off of you, replacing it with what you could only assume was his body wash, because while it definitely didn’t smell like yours, you were too tired to stop him.
When you both exited the shower, you expected him to be done helping you relax that evening, but with Jason, you could never predict his next steps. He started covering your body with Shea butter lotion and putting your braids in a bonnet. He carried you to your shared bedroom and started looking through his drawer. Before you could protest, he’d had your arms above your head again and his shirt was making its way onto your body.
You looked down at the black shirt, with the Arkham Knight logo with confusion, but when you glanced up at your favorite person in the city, all he could say, with a glint in his eye, was “I just wanted you to smell like me.”
Hi friends! This is a Reacher fic feat. a black original character. It's an AU, but definitely fits into that world. There will be at least 5 parts. This is my first story that I've posted since 2016ish, so please be nice.
We only accept compliments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms.
Proofread by @trippinsorrows
cw/tw: dark humor/sarcasm, violence, blood and injury, child abuse, emotional abuse/trauma, strong language, threats of violence, abandonment themes, and romantic tension. (If I've missed anything, please let me know and I'll edit to add)
Word count: 1.1k
October 13th, 2024
Reacher was a man of few words. If he wanted something handled, he didn’t make assumptions; he’d assess the situation, come to a quick determination, and acted with efficiency to protect those around him without regard for his own well-being.
Everyone who knew him, and there were few that really did, knew he operated by a strict code of conduct. There was no one in the world that was an exception to his rules. And his penchant for freedom was unmatched. If it wasn’t a toothbrush and money for the bus, it wasn’t a necessity. He travelled from city to city, slept where he could, ate when he could and kept it pushing.
Of course, there were a few unsavory moments here and there that couldn’t be avoided. How could he know he’d see a kid assaulted by her own father on his way to the bus stop? Of course he couldn’t just walk away. Not without kicking the little girl’s father in the jaw, throwing the weak man up a tree, and calling the cops to handle the rest. He was a man with values, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be involved. He handed the kid a Clark Bar, patted her on the back, and continued his way. Knowing that he was now covered in that hillbilly bitch of a man’s blood he needed a new wardrobe. Anything that drew attention to him was an immediate no-go.
All Reacher expected when he walked into the quaint thrift store in the middle of the town was to buy a new pair of clothes and donate his current one. He didn’t have a way to get rid of the unsavory bloodstains, but that was for the store to deal with. He walked in, kept his head down, picked up the first pair of clothes that could fit and went into the dressing room. After he tried on the new clothes and was walking to the register, he already had a plan in his head, and it was the same plan he always had when he was ready to leave a place that had worn out its welcome: He’d move onto the next city, wherever that may be, and continue his wandering lifestyle.
But fate, or perhaps the devil, had other plans for him.
Behind the counter, wearing a scowl to rival a lioness’s, stood one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known. Although, the last time he’d seen her, she wished that he would crawl into a hole and die. She hadn’t been given the opportunity to say anything to him yet, as she’d been too preoccupied with two other customers in the store, but he knew she’d noticed him. Adora James was someone who noticed the smallest of details and she probably saw him as soon as he walked into the tiny, but beautifully decorated store.
He was kind of hard to miss after all. Standing at 6’5, weighing 250 pounds, and with the build of a GI Joe action figure he was typically noticed whether he actually wanted to be. With their torrid history, he was sure that his presence was the opposite of a present to the woman who couldn’t hide the way she wished death upon her enemies, and he was number one on that list.
He knew that this discomfort they felt wouldn’t be rectified until they talked so he did what he did best; he assessed the situation, waited until her customers left the register, established his next steps, and acted.
Reacher placed his old clothes on the counter, waiting until she was restocking the loose clothing. "Good to see you, Adora." "Not good enough." she shot back, quick-witted as ever. Without pausing in her work, she kept hanging the clothes behind her, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "What are you doing here, Reacher?" she sighed, the exasperation clear in her voice. "I thought I made it crystal clear—the last time I saw you was supposed to be the last time I ever saw you."
He couldn’t lie and say that Adora avoiding his gaze wasn’t hurtful, but he’d heard worse from her. Reacher knew that backing down would mean defeat, and he wasn’t ready to give up on this again. “Fate,” he suggested with a small smile. “Or destiny.” “Or maybe it was Maybelline,” she supplied bluntly, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Be fucking forreal. You’ve never once in your life believed in destiny. What about seeing me in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere makes you think this could possibly be fated?”
Reacher rubbed his hand over his face while thinking how could he possibly answer her question without upsetting her even more. He knew she had every reason to be frustrated with him, he left her with bullshit answers and reasons for abandoning her, and fixing this situation wasn’t something he was going to accomplish in a thrift store.
“Look, how about I buy what I’m wearing, give you these to sell, and we can meet at the diner on Main Street to talk about what happened?” He hoped this offer would buy himself time to figure out his next moves. Reacher knew all too well why he made the excruciatingly difficult decision to walk away from the best woman he ever met, but the excuse seemed irrelevant in her presence. He saw the wrinkle in her forehead while she was deep in thought and observed the cute dimple in her cheek as she bit the inside of it.
To be honest Adora wasn’t certain she wanted to sit down with Reacher, it was risky. He was almost too beautiful for words and while he didn’t speak many of them, the ones he said carried weight. If he was willing to give her closure, she’d take that chance. With a resigned look in her eyes, she replied “Okay. I’ll entertain you. You’ve got 30 minutes of my extremely valuable time starting at 8pm. If it’s not satisfactory, I’ll make sure you won’t be giving anyone answers ever again.” She gave him his few pieces of change while ignoring the blood on the clothes, knowing that whoever pissed him off probably deserved it.
With the change in his hands Reacher nodded and turned to walk out of the store. He knew that she meant what she said, she could kill a man with her bare hands, and she had. As he looked back at the Thrift Store, all he could think was You don’t mess with the Special Investigators! and he’d already broken that promise once.
Once Reacher left her store, Adora immediately locked up and put up the CLOSED sign. She couldn’t deal with another customer while she felt like her life was being torn apart all over again. She quickly walked into her all too small office because she needed a strong drink. Luckily, there was a bottle of Stella Rosa Brandy in her desk drawer for those moments when customers were either racist or just entitled.
She took gulp after gulp until the bottle was empty all the while she sat in her comfortable desk chair while rubbing her growing migraine. Reacher was more of a headache than he had ever been aware of, and while it used to be endearing, it was just fucking unfortunate now.
She began to think over how she even found herself in the scenario, because honestly, what the fuck…
Adora had arrived in the town 2 years ago after selling her and her mom’s house and drove until she was finally away from anything and everything that reminded her of what she had lost. When she arrived in this small, but friendly town she felt at peace. She opened her small, but beautifully curated thrift store and called it “What’s Mine is Yours” She wanted people to be able to give and receive anything and everything that made them happy. She spent her whole life giving her all to others and while she wasn’t ready to return to that type of work again, it felt nice to help others give to others. Especially when so much had been taken from her.
Even on the days she wasn’t in her store she would drive around town and help out where she could. Whether it was helping to build a fence so Mrs. Johnson’s German Shepherd couldn’t escape anymore or organizing a day to paint over the garish graffiti that kept appearing on the High School. She was a part of a community now and she felt like peace was in reach.
But of course, he had to show up and ruin it all. Adora was sure he didn’t come here for her; his face was too dumbstruck when he saw her for that to be the case. And maybe it was “fate” like he had suggested, or maybe it was the world trying to prevent her from healing. She had dealt with enough loss in the past couple of years and all this felt like trauma rearing her ugly head once again.
When Reacher left it was like he tore her heart from her chest, and she couldn’t breathe, let alone comprehend his reasoning. Telling her that he ‘couldn’t be the one for her.’ That he had ‘too much baggage.’ That he had to ‘wander this world alone.’ All complete and total bullshit. He knew that she could see through it all, and he still left.
Needing to be alone was incomprehensible as if that had been a problem when they had been living together for a whole ass year. As if she wouldn’t have given her all to just be with him, wherever he was, whoever he needed to be. Adora followed him into death defying situations, but he didn’t trust her to go to with him to fucking South Dakota?
Adora threw her now empty bottle of brandy at the wall and screamed in frustration as it shattered. Remembering the worst parts of it all. And Reacher didn’t stay around for the crying, just the yelling, just her raw pain. Her telling him she hoped he broke an ankle on his journey to wherever his bitch-ass ended up. Her saying that if he knew he wasn’t ready for forever he shouldn’t have proposed. If he didn’t want her that way, then he didn’t have to make her fall in love with him. She threw his mother’s ring at his face and the last words she said to him were “I hope that you’re happy, I hope that you find what you’re looking for and I hope you realize you’ll never love whatever is out there as much as I loved you. I never want to see you again.”
And now she was supposed to have dinner with the man who broke her heart?
Fuck.
She stood slowly, walking carefully around the shards of broken glass and into the supply closet. She grabbed a broom and began to sweep up the mess she made. Unfortunately, she thought, I can’t sweep up the mess of my own life. She couldn’t even call her mother and talk through it. She had passed away a few months after Reacher left and that loss left her feeling utterly alone in this world. The one person she always had was her mom and without her, who was she?
She thought about calling Neagley, because she was always a practical voice, but that’s not what she needed right now. Adora didn’t want practicality. She wanted to hurt him the way he hurt her, but he’d have to have a heart for that to work and if he could do this to her, he was obviously lacking one.
She didn’t want to feel this way; this overwhelming pain that had numbed down when he wasn’t near, but went into full bloom the second she saw him open those doors to her store. She didn’t regret what she had said to him, because she was petty enough to mean it. But she did hate the way he looked at her when he closed the door after himself. Taking only the clothes on his back and a fucking toothbrush. Ever the minimalist. Enough that he couldn’t even consider taking her with him.
With the glass cleaned up and the store closed she watched the clock as the time passed…It was getting closer and closer to 8pm and while the diner he suggested was only a few blocks away from her, Adora didn’t know if she would be able to go. She didn’t know how to give him the opportunity to talk things out. What could he say that wouldn’t break her more? Truthfully, she didn’t know if he even has the ability to do that to her again or if her heart had become impenetrable to the power his words used to carry.
She ran her fingers through her curls and walked around her store considering the different outfit options. She couldn’t avoid him forever and she promised 30 minutes of her time and unlike him, she never broke a promise. It wasn’t like this was a date by any means, but she couldn’t go meet him in her “work clothes.” She found a cute top and kept on her dark wash jeans. She found a necklace, cute flats, and a clutch to match.
She was the exact opposite of ready to talk to him, but she at least looked the part. She looked at her impromptu outfit in the mirror and hope that he’d die of shock when he saw her. It wouldn’t give her closure but nothing that could happen to him could be worse than what he’d done to her.
As she locked up the store behind her, she took a deep breath before heading in the direction of the diner. Whatever happened tonight, whatever excuses he gave her, she knew this was going to change her future as she knew it. And for the first time in her life, she was making a choice that didn't feel like a beginning, but an ending that she was most certainly not prepared for.
Author's Note:
Thank you to everyone who showed love on the first 2 parts and I hope you enjoyed this one, just as much. Ask me any questions you have, give your honest opinions and please be respectful. Also, did y'all see the new Reacher season 3 trailer? Bae is looking fine as hell.
cw/tw: alcohol use, violence, military, sexual tension, power dynamics, flirting, character growth (let me know if I've missed anything)
Word count: 1.7k
August 5th, 2016
Adora wasn’t sure how to contain her excitement. This was easily the best day of her life, not counting the day she had enlisted. Being promoted to Major and then 2 months later being asked to join a special task force? Nothing could bring her high down.
She was one of very few women of color to have the many opportunities that had been afforded to her whilst she’d been enlisted. She knew part of it was being a legacy kid. Her mom had been a Command Sergeant Major in the army and being an army brat who could speak 4 languages by the age of 10 had intrigued a lot of the higher ups before she’d even been of age. It was no wonder she had exceeded expectations all with an air of excitement.
When she made the decision to enlist, it was an easy one. Adora spent most of her life on bases and travelling the world. She wasn’t comfortable staying in one place for too long, and while she was particular about her environment, she was adaptable. Joining a new team and being able to work on specialty projects was something she had only dreamed of and was more than capable of excelling at.
And Adora was riding high on that feeling until she walked into the shabby building housing more boxes filled with paper and dust than she’d ever seen in her life.
She knew this Special Unit that Reacher was putting together was new, but she wasn’t exactly prepared for the building to be so…decrepit. To be fair she hadn’t been prepped for any part of this new endeavor, but that was always the exciting part of the army: expecting the unexpected. And no one was more unexpected than Jack Reacher.
He was a tank of a man and she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t have a massive crush on him. His striking eyes and his body were one thing, but his rank and intelligence? Beautiful. He’d risen through the ranks like her, was heading up his own unit, and was known to follow a strict code of conduct. Just tell Adora that he also loved puppies, and she was a taken woman.
Walking into the spacious room behind Calvin Franz (another seemingly nervous) recruit and Reacher, Adora couldn’t help but feel there was some tension between their new “team” to say the least. She took survey of the mismatched group while Reacher was putting an obnoxiously blonde man in his place. Outside of the blonde who she believed was named O’Donnell; she took note of a black woman with soulful eyes, a white woman with dark hair who looked like she worked at a bank, a cute Asian man strumming a guitar, a black man that was old enough to be her dad (she’d have to see if he knew her mother), 2 beautiful Latino men (one with a large back tattoo), and of course Franz and Reacher. 10 people who would be tasked with working together for an unspecified amount of time.
She blanked out during the beginning of Reacher’s monologue, where she realized this was the most, she had probably ever heard the real-life G.I. Joe speak. They hadn’t interacted with each other much during their time enlisted, but in the few interactions they had shared he didn’t say much, but he handled his business. She wasn’t sure if his silence was intentional or if it was to keep himself distant from others. If it was to keep people away, that was unfortunate because she could definitely see herself keeping a close eye on him.
“…The army wanted a unit for particularly complex matters when they arose. To do that I need Special Investigators, not generic MPs.” Reacher concluded.
One of the Latino men with Orozco tatted on his back raised his hand before speaking “If we’re so special, why did the stick us in this dump? I mean, what is up with this place?” he asked with a laugh, which others on the team couldn’t help but join.
“Few years ago, Uncle Sam made an auction bid for some land down the road. Entered the address backwards and became the proud owners of this building and the contents of the now-defunct Callahan Insurance Agency…But you’re right. Place could work a little better.” Reacher explained.
Adora snorted “A little better? This place is a dump with a capital D and only bleach and hard work could make this even remotely workable.”
With a blink and you’d miss it smile, which she did not miss, Reacher continued and said, “Okay team, you heard the woman, straighten up these boxes and move these old tanker desks to the middle of the room.”
The rest of the team sighed and shifted their glares to Adora. She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair completely nonplused, “I just said what everyone else was thinking and I won’t apologize for it.”
Reacher sensing the tension said “Let’s go. You don’t have to call me ‘Major,’ but you do have to move your ass when I say so. Get to it.”
Adora stretched her legs and shoulders before grabbing a tanker box with the Black girl with the soulful eyes and they began exchanging pleasantries. She came to learn her name is Frances Neagley “Just Neagley please” and she was a Seargent, which was surprising. Not because she didn’t seem capable of the job, but Reacher picking someone relatively new seemed intriguing and she loved things that piqued her interest. Adora was never one to undermine Black women and if Neagley was on her team, then she knew they were more than equals, titles be damned.
“Reacher’s paying for beers once we’re done here” Franz announced walking over to the two women, and while the rest of the team looked slightly more upbeat after that, Adora could only think *This team is gonna need a hell of a lot of beer to make this thing work*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing could have prepared her for the uncomfortable silences during their bar visit. Adora wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she put that thought behind her while she sipped her 3rd beer to stay present during the more than awkward hang out session. She looked around the room, putting on her surveillance eyes and noticed too many men looking in their direction. She wasn’t sure why Reacher chose this place to drink, but she was almost a thousand percent sure this wasn’t going to end well…
And well…
Adora loved and hated that she was right about that outcome.
When the 91st approached their table and threatened Neagley, she was more than ready to go to bat for her sister in arms. But she didn’t get the chance before Reacher was already aggressively defending Neagley and the rest of the team. Of course that did lead to a bar fight, but what better way to unite a team than beating the shit out of another one?
And when Swan (the cute Asian) suggested they get out of there, because he knew the perfect place for a bonfire, how could the team refuse? And they warmed up to each other even more when Adora suggested they stop to pick up food and drinks on the way.
They’d all been fraternizing after drinking a few drinks more than she’d ever admit to, and she could feel the heavy and intoxicating effects of the alcohol and now all she wanted to do was get under a certain someone before the night was over.
Before the angel on her shoulder could stop her, Adora walked over to the Jeep where Reacher and Neagley were drinking and laughing at Swan’s perfectly imperfect singing. She didn’t care if Neagley heard her drunken attempts at getting Reacher to loosen up, someone had to get that man’s hips to move and Adora was the perfect candidate.
“You knew that fight was going to happen, didn’t you?” she asked coyly. She may have been drunk but she was all too aware that asking him to dance straight-up wouldn’t work, even if she was a little impatient.
“I mean, he didn’t ask nicely.” Reacher supplied with a sly smile.
“Was there any way he could have asked that didn’t end up with us throwing hands?”
“He could have said please.”
“And if I was to ask you to pretty-please dance, does that mean you’ll say yes?”
Reacher looked her up and down and Adora spun in a circle to give him an even better view. She knew he’d been looking at her anyways and who was she to not help, when help was obviously needed? She may be slim, but the girl had curves in all the right places that decades of exercise only seemed to enhance exponentially.
“As nice as that sounds, these 2 left feet prefer to stay planted on solid ground” he said while biting his lip, recognizing that she was trouble and while he never ran from trouble in his life, she was more than he could handle right now especially with the many beers in his system.
Adora smiled “Well, you know where to find me if you ever need a dance lesson.”
As she walked away, with an undeniable sway in her hips, she missed Neagley shoving Reacher and saying, “You should have taken her up on that offer, I doubt she makes it again.”
“I’m her superior, no amount of cute smiles and fluttering eyelashes is going to make me forget that… no matter how pretty she asks” he was slightly disappointed in himself for never letting his code falter. If she wasn’t on his team and if they weren’t drunk as hell, he wasn’t 100% sure that his answer would have been a no. To a dance or otherwise.
Adora’s good mood didn’t falter by Reacher’s unexplainable dismissal, she knew what she had to offer and what his code was. She was capable of just being happy to be in his presence and the presence of her new team members. This was the beginning of the rest of her life, and there was nothing that could bring her down.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much to everyone who read the first part of the story and showed love. I really appreciate it, especially with me just getting back into writing. Please ask me any questions you have, give your opinions and please be respectful. I'm doing this for fun and want to keep that energy going for any interactions.
Thank you guys so much for the love and support The Scent of You has been getting.
I was really anxious to post any of my writing and thinking that no one would actually like it and I'm so thankful for everyone who interacted with it, in any way.
I do have a new short series that I will start posting tomorrow for Reacher. If you are interested in being in the taglist, please let me know today or early tomorrow. You can respond to this post or send me an ask.
Again, thank you for the love and support. I really do appreciate you all 🥰
