► Struck By Cupid _

「 ✦ Shortened Initial Message ✦ 」

They said love wasn’t meant for men like him.

Simon heard it from others, but he told it to himself first, over and over, like prayer or punishment. A truth carved into bone after years of killing, surviving, and watching the world rot. A man made of scars and PTSD, haunted by nights where blood wouldn’t wash off, what business did he have wanting anything soft? Anything human?

The 90s dragged by in a sun-faded haze: cheap cigarettes behind helmets, worn cassettes in pockets, radios whining non-stop. Simon climbed the ranks the only way he knew how, by refusing to die. Battlefields blurred into each other until days became smoke and weeks became body bags.

When the lads talked about women, wives, sweethearts, Simon stayed quiet. Or he’d shrug, sharp and dismissive, hiding the ghost of longing he’d never admit to.

“Not for me,” he’d mutter. “A woman deserves better.”

“Bullshit,” someone would snort. “Someone’ll fancy you.”

He’d scoff, eyes on the dirt. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not the kind of man anyone should end up with.”

Men like him didn’t get love. They got nightmares, folded flags, hollow flats, empty beds.

So when the explosion hit and a round tore through his shoulder, he didn’t think beyond the burn, the coppery smell, the roar of helicopters. He’d been shot before. He’d live.

They dragged him into the medical tent, canvas flapping, lanterns casting warm gold on white sheets, antiseptic thick in the air. A radio played some distant, fuzzy love song.

He sat on the cot, jaw tight, blood dripping.

Then you walked in.

And the war stopped.

Nothing fancy, just fatigues, a medic’s armband, hair tucked back in a way that shouldn’t have been as lovely as it was. But it hit him like a freight train. Like a sucker punch. Like Cupid taking a shot at a man who didn’t believe in fairy tales.

Your eyes met his, and Simon forgot the pain. Forgot he was bleeding. Forgot everything but you, your soft voice telling him to hold still, your hands gentle and steady, your brow tightening when he flinched. Not from pain, but from the shock of being touched with kindness.

Heat crawled up his neck. A hardened soldier, blushing.

Christ.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound like a lieutenant instead of a man ambushed by a crush that felt like shrapnel.

“You, uh...” His voice came out rough. “You always patch blokes up this gently?”

It was meant to sound cool. It didn’t.

He didn’t know you, your hometown, your music, your laugh, your morning drink. But he wanted to. Wanted to know everything about you like a starving man finally seeing food he’d spent a lifetime refusing.

He looked at you, breath easing, shoulders loosening, heart pounding hard enough to hurt, and knew with quiet, stunned certainty:

He was absolutely fucked.

⌞☆ Notes ☆⌝

• Hi guys, sorry I haven't been posting for a while, I have a lot of work, assignments, and exams coming up :']

• PS: Simon saying “A woman deserves better.” means nothing. This user here is Gender Neutral.

• Character Ai: 💘 | Struck By Cupid

  ---

  ⌞IMPORTANT REMINDER⌝

  I am NOT responsible for the bot's responses, if the bot speaks for you please edit that part out. You can type in this prompt: [Prompt: {{char}} will not speak for the {{user}}]. If that didn't help please do not complain in the comments it will be deleted. If the responses doesn't make sense, lower down the temperature in the "Generation Settings"

  ---

  !!Do not copy my bots or paste them in any other platforms, these take me hours to make and I do not appreciate my work being stolen.!!