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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months

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Only For You

Thorn x female!reader

Summary: Thorn hides a huge part of his life from you and he's constantly leaving for long periods of time. You're not sure you'll ever know all of his secrets, but you know you're tired of saying goodbye.

Notes/warnings: angsty/fluffy, but nothing else really. mistakes, I'm sure. I did my best.

Words: 1354

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“Going where?” you ask, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to shield your bare skin from the cold. He shrugs out of his nylon, sorry-excuse-for-a-coat and wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a useless effort. In a thin t-shirt, he’ll be frozen in no time and you’ll be left to trade the coat back and forth as he stands on your front porch in the winter’s stinging air.

His hands slide into his jeans front pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

With a huff, you ask, “What do you know, Thorn?”

He flinches. A hand comes out of his pocket to run over his buzzed hair. You can’t count how many times you’ve asked him these questions, and you kick yourself for bothering when the answers have not once strayed from their cookie-cutter precision. He never knows. Or he does and refuses to tell you. Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t make its way to you. But the hurt in his mossy-green eyes is not for the secrets. It’s not for the disappearing act he forces you through. It’s reserved solely for the brand new weariness in your tone.

This is not what you do. Your pattern with him has been consistent from the beginning. A month after he first kissed you, three weeks after you first slept together, you received the same pieced-together speech: ‘I have to leave. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know for how long.’ And you provided the same response you always do; a response you weren’t aware at the time would be commonly leaving your mouth; a response he’s not once requested, but with every feature of his face, pleads for: ‘I’ll be here when you get back’. Then he smiles, as always, and kisses you, and you pull him into your bed only for him to be gone by the time you wake.

But you just broke the pattern with that tone of yours. It’s less welcoming, offering inadequate reassurance that when he knocks on your door in one or two or three months it’ll open.

Thorn swallows hard as he fidgets in place, and you feel tendrils of guilt spread throughout your system. Thorn doesn’t fidget. Fidgeting means nerves. Nerves mean anxiety. And anxiety is not a well-worn jacket on the man who weaseled his way into your heart. It doesn’t fit. That jacket isn’t made in his size and it feels no different than when a toddler is squeezed into an outfit their parents refuse to accept they’ve grown out of.

“What I know is that I want to come back to you,” he says. A beat passes and the cloud of nervous energy is shoved aside, likely a required skill for whatever the hell he does when he leaves you. He steps closer. Your heart beats harder. “I will walk up here and knock on this door and wait for you to let me in. Like I always do.”

Lips parting, you sink further into the scent of cologne that long ago seeped into the interior fibers of his coat. It’s an instinctual comfort while everything inside of your body fights your mind.

Fingers twitch to reach out and jerk him inside, but if you do that there’s no chance you’ll resist him; no chance you will even make it to your bed. With one foot through the door, he’ll have you against the wall or on the floor with the hallway runner serving as the only barrier between your back and the chill of the hardwood. With his tongue on your neck, you will forget how tired you are of his rollercoastering in and out of your life. His fingers digging into your flesh will crack your icy determination to no longer miss him until it’s a melted puddle beneath you. His cock deep inside of you will demand you let go of letting him go.

Well, it’ll demand you let go of considering letting him go. It’s not what you want. If you had your pick of clichéd happy endings, your wicked-smart, tattooed-up, former—you question—criminal would settle in with you. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t form that image in your mind. Thorn with a ring on his finger, you with his baby growing in your belly, a house you can share—if that exists somewhere, you’re losing hope that it’s on your timeline.

“Thorn, how long is this going to last?”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“No,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. “Not just this time. All of it. When does it stop? When do you stay?”

His shoulders slump the slightest with his heavy sigh. “Sweetness, I made promises. I’ve got people relying on me.”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, praying the struggle of holding back your tears has slipped under his radar despite that not being a possibility before. The only tears Thorn doesn’t catch are the ones he isn’t around to witness. “What if I left you all the time for reasons I refused to tell you about? You couldn’t find me, you couldn’t contact me, you didn’t know if I was safe, you wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if I might be dea—”

“Stop!” he snaps, then quieter, repeats, “Stop.” His eyes fall from yours to the stone of your porch and enough seconds pass that there’s an awkwardness to the silence. “I would lose my mind if it was you, Ok?” he says, connecting to your stare. “I’d go fucking crazy.”

“And somehow you expect me not to.”

His hands move to cup your face, thumbs stroking back and forth over your cheekbones. “I don’t expect anything of you, sweetness. I can't, because it wouldn't be fair. But it doesn't change the truth that you don’t leave my thoughts. When I'm gone, every free second I have is spent thinking about coming home to you.”

Except coming home often means adding to your worries. There’s not one instance in the time you’ve known him that he has returned to you without bruises at every stage of healing scattered across his body. But you don’t speak of them. Neither do you speak of the split lip, cut eyebrow, sliced skin, and the worst of them: the hole in his arm that was shoddily stitched up, leaving a permanent reminder of the secret life he keeps from you.

Often, when he is asleep, you run your finger over the raised skin, simultaneously thankful that he made it back from such an ordeal and cursing that he left to begin with. Then, from the twisted mess those feelings cause in your head, you find that your pain at seeing him hurt always develops a branch of anger.

Despite all of the blows you know he takes, you're not quick enough to stop yourself from throwing one of your own. “Assuming you’ll be able to come home at all…right?”

His eyes widen before they squeeze shut. Sharp jawline sharpens more as teeth clench. Thorn takes a deep breath, then proves that his forehead resting against yours is all it takes for your anger to fizzle.

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you finally allow the tears to spill. They pour with abandon, overwhelming you the way a tidal wave might overtake a small ship in its ocean.

“I know whatever you do is stupidly dangerous,” pushes through your sudden sobs and sniffles.

“That’s why I don’t tell you what it is,” he whispers as his nose nudges yours. “But I’m careful, sweetness. I’m careful because of you.”

Your lips freeze from the tears that reach them. The salty liquid under the chilled air bleeds away all moisture until his mouth claims a kiss. Not soft, not sweet, but beautifully burning. And from that burn, you find your calm. From familiarity, you find peace. From him, you find home.

When you separate, your breaths form a puff of heat that shoves away the cold. “I won’t let you down,” he promises. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

---

A/N: there is very likely going to be a part 2 to this, assuming people would want to read it.

tags: @wkndwlff @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @mamachasesmayhem @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl

#thorn expendables 3 #glen powell #glen powell fic #glen powell fanfiction #thorn expendables #the expendables #the expendables fic #the expendables 3 #thorn x reader #glen powell thorn

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snipetooth · 5 months

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Lee Christmas - "I'm Glad You're Home"

first fic on the blog wooo! this is for the expendables; i had to write the focus as being on lee for the perspective i wanted to tell so let me know if it works out or not from a reader's perspective! also shoutout to rebel-moons, he IS a cutie and i am now convinced that i have to watch the expendables 3 just for this scene. all my works are tagged with "#x reader" for quick filtering btw!

Prompt: “[WONDER]: unable to comprehend how incredible the receiver is, the sender decides to simply cup their face in their hands and marvel at them instead.” from “Reasons to Cup a Face” by @.soulpromptson pairing: lee christmas x gn!reader words: 1.7k requested: no

“Right, that’s it! I’m bailing on you fuckwads. Leaving this group forever. Cry and plead all you want, I’m done with you all.”

Shouts of protest immediately followed Lee’s words as he stood up. They were mostly along the lines of, “C’mon, Christmas, you only had to buy three rounds!” or “A real man would finish the game he started, not run out with his tail between his legs because he’s losing chips!” and “At least take a shower before you head back to your prettier half, you smell like you live in an abandoned sewer!”

Lee pried his knives out of the decorated board the group used for target practice, waving one about threateningly as he sheathed the others. “Y’better stow all that codswallop or I’ll really leave for good! Damn bastards, the lot of you, bleedin’ a poor man dry of all his finances with your rigged card games. There’s no reason why Gunnar should’ve won as much as he did, and you all know it!”

Gunnar made a show of ‘casually’ flexing his arms as he leaned back in his seat, Yin and Ceaser snickering to his left while Toll shook his head in silence to his right. “Can’t help being so good if all you’re gonna do is be shit at poker, Christmas,” he replied smugly before knocking back a beer and slamming it on the tabletop with a loud belch. “But maybe I’ll let you go without calling after your debt this time, just this once. I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“How kind of you,” Barney said dryly as he put away the whiskey glass he had been polishing, nodding to Lee as the man passed by. “You really should take a shower though. Can’t have you messing this one up just because you’re too lazy to get a little wet.”

The ground level of the hangout rang with laughter as Lee’s middle fingers disappeared around the corner to the bathrooms.

The hum of his motorcycle drowned out the nightlife of the city, and Lee’s thoughts drowned out the motorcycle. His eyes caught a glimpse of the low-hanging moon between the rapidly shrinking buildings behind him, storm clouds threatening to blot out the source of light.

His thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d come home to a partner after an extended mission.

———

“Coming! Who is it?”

“You know, someday you’ll find a man who’ll be happy just to watch you sleep.”

Lee opened the screen door. Lacy quickly side-stepped through and shut it behind her. “Hi. I didn’t know you were back.” Lee tried to not let her lack of enthusiasm bother him. “Hey babe. Yeah, I just arrived.”

Lacy stayed firmly glued to the wall of the house. “Hey.”

“You look great.”

“I wish you would have called.”

Lee’s shoulders began to prickle uncomfortably. Years of combat had honed his attention to detail and body language, and something about her… everything was setting off alarm bells loud enough that he almost wondered if she could hear them. “Never been a good caller.”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a month,” Lacy pressed.

“Really?” Lee frowned. “Time flies, huh? Won’t happen again, sorry. But! I do have a surprise.” He held up a bottle of wine. “Rose-flavored, your favorite. And…” he fished around in his pocket briefly, “I did have something else for you.”

Lee missed Lacy’s glance through the open front door. “It’s something I picked up from Burma.” Triumphantly, he pulled out a ring box, holding it open so that the item inside could catch the light better. “It’s a ruby. It’s a good color, but it’s hard to see in this light.” His brows knitted as he stared a little harder at the ring. “This… kind of looked a little shinier when I bought it in the shop, you know? I—”

“Lace! Everything alright?”

Time stopped. A loud, perpetual ring almost drowned out Lacy’s response as Lee leaned around her to look at the source of the new voice: “Yeah. H-he’s a friend.”

The imposing figure in the hallway scowled, chest puffed out. “Kind of late. You got a name?”

Lee couldn’t hide his contempt even if he wanted to as his eyes met with his now ex-girlfriend’s. A million excuses flashed to the surface of her face and instantly withered upon meeting his look. “Friend. She just told you.”

———

The ducati’s tires screeched painfully loud in the whispers of the night. The rain-soaked pavement reflected red as cars droned on before returning to green after a lull in traffic.

It had been four years since that night. Four years, three months, and twenty-one days, if one wanted to be picky about it. Just over three years of swearing off of relationships, of casual dating, of one-night stands, of people in general. Lee Christmas didn’t need a partner; he had The Expendables. His brothers were all he’d ever need.

Until you came along.

A smile fought and won under Lee’s helmet as he turned a corner. The one time he lets the guys take him to a more public bar to get drunk off their asses, and you’re sitting there at the counter thanking the bartender handing you a finished drink. You chat with someone to your left, the stool to your right almost painfully vacant.

A hearty slap to the space between his shoulder blades was all the encouragement he needed to fill the spot, and the rest was history, really.

He’d gone on several missions since he started dating you, but this one was definitely the longest so far. He had to go radio silent for several months as opposed to just a couple of weeks, and even with notice given in advance of this, paranoia drifted in like a deceptively soft mist early in the morn.

Would you still be in your apartment? Would there be a stranger in your kitchen? Would you try to hide any signs of infidelity, or would you confess to them right away out of guilt?

“Lee!”

He barely had time to swing a leg over his bike and turn to face you before you slammed into him, nearly knocking over the ducati in the process. “You’re home! You’re finally home! You smell really good, too; did you get a new soap?”

Just like mist at the first rays of the sunrise, all doubt dissipated into nothingness as Lee hugged you back with a pressure strong enough to risk cracking a few ribs. “Aw, and here I was thinkin’ you enjoyed the peace of me being gone,” he grinned, holding you back at arms’ length. “Can’t decide if I’m hurt that I’m wrong or touched that I am.”

You wrinkled your nose up at him. “Lee, you ass, of course I missed you! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been stuck to the window? Practically duct-taped myself to it.” You shrugged one of his hands off of you to grasp it, stumbling over the stairs leading up to your apartment in your haste. “Come on, I have something I want to show you!”

Lee’s vision was briefly spotty with gently twinkling lights in the warm, dim atmosphere of the apartment as you pulled him in. All around him the general mood had been adjusted for something akin to a romantic night in without the pressure of having to say ‘yes’ to anything should one or both parties simply want to go to bed; a couple of candles burned on shelves, thin strings of lights edging the ceiling and walls bathed the world in their soft glow, new throw blankets were strategically placed on the couch, and a simple but jointly beloved meal waited in the dining room. “When did you think to do all of this?” The mercenary breathed, one hand reaching to touch a light bulb no bigger than his thumb’s nail. “I didn’t tell you when I was coming home; I thought it was a surprise.”

A grin tugged at his mouth as he watched you fiddle with your hands, indecision plainly written on your face before quickly giving up. “Well,” you began slowly, “I… might know a little birdie. And that little birdie might have told me a few days ago that you were probably coming back today, and they might have also told me when you left. So. Sorry to ruin your surprise with my own..?”

All Lee could do was blink at you, really.

His last partner had cheated on him for feeling neglected. Invited another man into the house and had been having a relationship with him for god knows how long instead of just calling things off.

And here you were. A new partner. A new home. A new start.

You saw several months of no contact and decided that you should make one of his favorite dinners and ensured the apartment was as welcoming and calm as you possibly could make it.

“...Lee? Is all of this… okay?”

He blinked twice more. His hands subconsciously rose to cradle your face, the size of them near suffocating were he not careful. “It’s more than okay,” he breathed, enraptured by the reflection of your work in your eyes. “It’s damn perfect. Thank you. I….” Lee swallowed thickly. Words of vulnerability didn’t come easy to him; they never really have. “I love it. I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Thank you.”

Your own hands came up to lace together behind his neck, keeping him steady. “Of course. Figured you deserved to be spoiled a little yourself after all you’ve done for me and the way you’ve looked coming back after your work trips.” You tilted your head back, lips nearly brushing his as they moved to speak. “Though I’m not above rescinding all the spoiling I had planned this evening if you let the food get cold much longer. If you’re not careful, I’ll start valuing my cooking above you.”

Lee’s hearty laughed pealed comfortingly in the walls of your home as you both made your way to the table to enjoy your first dinner together in months. “I’ll be sure to watch myself, then. Can’t let myself be usurped by an inanimate object, now can I?”

#x reader #the expendables x reader #lee christmas x reader #the expendables #lee christmas #self ship #fictional other

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