A/N: this is my first project on Tumblr, and as I’m obsessed with the show Reacher I decided to create my own character for it (as all fanfic writers do). So this is a one-shot between Reacher and my oc Lisa - his daughter. Takes place during the last episode of the second season.
Warnings: visuals on post-fight injuries but it’s not graphic
Tropes: dad!reacher + daughter!oc, protective!dad, fluff, Reacher turning into a mushy puddle
Summary: Reacher reminds Lisa they’re not completely out of danger yet.
Sunlight bled through the beige curtains and warmed the motel room, particles of dust swirling through the soft beams of early morning light. One bed sat pushed against the wall, a queen-sized mattress and frame with simple bedding. Taking up more than half the space was a large sleeping lump.
The warm light traced the ridged lines of his muscular back, golden hues catching in his dark blond hair. A low groan muffled by a pillow sounded, and his forearm reached across the bed, hand searching for the smaller form…that was no longer there.
He inhaled sharply, grogginess gone as he sat upright, blankets flying off his toned form.
“Lisa?” He spoke, voice still rough from sleep. There was no response.
He threw the rest of the blankets off, standing up fully and looking around the room. Silent. Unmoved since they got there last night. And her backpack was still on the small table.
The bathroom was right across the bed, the light was on and the door cracked. “Lisa? Baby?” He called again, a little more urgent.
Pushing open the door, his eyes swept around the orange-lit tiles and dirty sink. A toothbrush, the washcloth and towels they’d used for showering hung half dried on the wall.
“Shit.” He muttered, brows furrowed. His mind was wide awake now, heart thudding against his ribs as he raced back to the bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and reloading it.
Lisa was gone. How did he not hear her leave? He mentally cursed himself for letting his guard down for one night.
A soft click came from behind him and he spun around.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Lisa said brightly, plastic bag in hand. She kicked off her untied boots, “went out to get you a present. And breakfast.”
Reacher fell back onto the bed, setting his gun down on the nightstand and leaning forward, surveying her to ensure she wasn’t hurt. There was a bruise on her neck from being choked, and her lip was torn and still a little swollen - that was on her from nervous chewing.
Relieved to see no more new injuries, Reacher spoke gruffly. “Wake me up next time, I thought someone had got you. Again.”
She met his worried gaze, her grin fading. “Dad, I’m fine. I just went to get you a new toothbrush.” She dug around in the plastic bag and stepping close to him.
He quirked a brow and accepted the peace offering, tapping it against his knee, “Lisa. I’m serious, don’t leave without telling me. Especially after all the shit with Langston.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t go back to sleep and thought I’d surprise you.”
Her soft tone made his heart clench a little. Reacher sighed and set the toothbrush on the bed next to him, reaching out and pulling her close by her wrist.
“I know baby,” he said softly, muscular arms wrapping tight around her middle. “Thank you for the toothbrush.”
Lisa regained her soft smile, hugging his neck, cheek against his short hair, “You’re welcome. I also ordered breakfast from a nearby diner and so you need to get up and get dress-“
Her words dove into a soft grunt as he tugged her onto his lap instead, leaning back against the headboard.
“Just…stay put and slow down for a second, hot rod.” Reacher muttered, pressing a warm and calloused palm to the side of her head, tucking her much smaller frame under his chin. “It’s been a long few weeks.”
Lisa pouted, hands curling against his bare and very warm chest, “but the food-“
“The food can wait.” Reacher said softly into her fair hair which had been tossed carelessly inside the hood of her thin zip-up. “They won’t even get started on the order until we arrive again, we have time.”
She gave in and settled into him, held in his strong arms. On his forearm was a white bandage, taped to his tanned skin with a faded splotch of red in the middle. She smoothed down the corner of tape that had curled up slightly, thumbing over it once more.
Reacher’s heart rate had since slowed, but his senses were kicked into full gear still. He gently caressed the bruised part of her neck, mentally noting to grab a small sack of ice from the motel freezer when they left.
He gently kissed her temple, his other hand brushing her long hair out of her hoodie and down her back, “we need to be more cautious, baby. I’m not gonna lose my kid.”
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