#hit me up with jack’s scent or something cause idk what this man would smell like yet 💀 right now i'm thinking he's got a dull/weak scent

[writeshite]

Jack Reacher looks like he gives the best hugs

Jack was always warm. Regardless the season or time, he was always a source of heat, even in the warm Georgia sun you enjoyed the warmth as it reminded you he was well and had walked out from the prison alive. “I don’t think Oscar likes you much,” You whispered to him, laughing softly into his shoulder.

“Not my fault,” he responded in his defence, arms wound tight around you, he buried his nose into your shoulder with equal fervour. Despite his aversion to permanency, he possessed over you as a child would their favourite toy, having likened you his most precious commodity.

The prison’s stale scent lingered thinly on him, and he loathed it. A hand drifted under your shirt to meet your skin and he hunched over further, as he mouthed at the junction on your neck, coaxing your scent out in larger swaths—the sugarcane fragrance was first, much to his delight, and he rubbed his cheeks hard against your skin as the aroma of basil and graphite arose. You angled your head closer to his, kissing his temple, “Homicide?” You inquired.

“Not here,” he spoke softly, tension surfacing in his tone and form. You shelve the rest of your questions and rub circles on his back, the hand under your shirt wound closer around you, his other hand gripped the back of your neck as though he were to meld with your body.

Roscoe cleared her throat, pursing her lips in a teasing smile, fanning the air around her with her hand, “Alright lovebirds, wanna take this somewhere else?” Jack looked up, glaring at her, Roscoe shrugged as she gestured to the police car. You snorted as Jack grumbled and followed after you to the vehicle.