xXDesertSongXx
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After a gruesome break up and a first date gone wrong, John MacTavish has had enough. He valiantly swears off all men. But after a kind stranger comes to his rescue, John falls hopeless to his rotten charm, monosyllabic sarcasm, and pretty looks. Simon Riley is a part time librarian, and a full time idiot. And he will be the death of poor John.
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Johnny’s learned to recognize the look on Simon's face and the heat in his eyes as love. It only took him several years to finally notice what had always been staring right at him. It only took a single round to the head to finally push them together like the crashing waves of two violent currents.
Stubborn and arrogant, but they got there eventually. And every morning is spent making up for lost time, and getting lost as time bends all around them.
It’s always the little things, the imperfect things, the innocent things that always have him falling deaf to the chorus of wedding bells in his head and blind with thoughts of churches and Simon under a driftwood arch. Johnny reckons he’ll get down on one of those crippled knees and marry him soon enough. But there’s no rush. They have time. Nothing but time.
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They’re a lot of things. They’re men, they’re soldiers. They are brothers, and they are sons. Sons of broken families and warfighters in every war. Born rotten, taught violence, stripped of their warmth.
But they remain warm for each other like pieces of the sun that flicker to life in the presence of one another. In each other’s presence, they are vulnerably human. Johnny’s never met another person he wanted to be so vulnerable with. And for Simon Riley, he is nothing but exposed.
He hangs his heart up from clotheslines, writes his love in the sky. Bared and exposed for all to see just how devoted and committed he remains to a man that is deathly afraid of committing to him. But something in the way they kissed that very first time, and how those whiskey eyes turn to look at him now… it speaks of a crashing tide full with trust and faith, devotion and adoration. The weight of every ocean, held back in Simon’s eyes. Always warm for him.
Their eyes meet, and Johnny feels that their fates have become intimately tangled together along the way. Johnny isn’t sure of much. He’s not too sure of them, what they are, and what they’ve become. But he thinks they might just be alright. Heaven isn’t too far away.
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Simon makes a decision. If Johnny's little broken whines as he falls apart in his arms is eternal damnation, a wicked marker on his damned soul, then he doesn't want to go to Heaven. He doesn't want to be a God-fearing man any longer. He wants to stay right here, attached to this pretty little thing. He wants to say concealed in his wet, pliant little body, untouched flesh molding around him, making him fit so beautifully. Perfect boy. Perfect for him. The perfect way to lose his religion.
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A MWIII fix it.
Recent bookmarks
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Jayce was pondering something. Viktor approached him.
Bookmarked by xXDesertSongXx
28 Feb 2025
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Happy Valentine's Day, my loves!
Ro, I hope you like this gift! <3 These boys are silly and soft and I literally adore them :') Thank you for giving me this opportunity, I loved every second of it!
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,768
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 3
- Kudos:
- 61
- Bookmarks:
- 7
- Hits:
- 496
Bookmarked by xXDesertSongXx
14 Feb 2025
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Ghost and Soap spend the night in a warzone. Ghost comforts Soap the only way he knows how. They both struggle with their emotions.
Bookmarked by xXDesertSongXx
22 Nov 2024
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His eyes and his attention were for Johnny, only for Johnny. So close to him, right there.
Ghost was gobsmacked by how brilliant he looked. He always looked fucking good, but something about him was really, really good that night. Not just the cold weather clothes, not just his messy five-o-clock shadow that Ghost wanted to rub his cheek against. Something else. Something since yesterday night, since that godforsaken skyscraper.
Or, what happens at the bar in Chicago.
Bookmarked by xXDesertSongXx
22 Nov 2024
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He tried not to think about that too much. But that was his problem, wasn’t it? Thinking about it too much was why he’d driven five hours fueled by alcoholic mania just to see Soap again.
He wasn't even sure he'd have a fucking job when he returned, wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be court-martialed on sight, not with the way he’d left. But then, he didn’t really care, did he? Didn’t really know if he’d return, anyway. Didn’t know if he’d survive the rejection he feared was waiting for him at 91 Broughton Street, flat number 609.
Or, Ghost stalks Soap, and he doesn't like what he finds.
Bookmarked by xXDesertSongXx
22 Nov 2024