#mwah thx for the awesome epic ask

[ijscoupe]

(no pressure to write this of course!! Do whatever makes you comfortable and happy <33)

I live for angst, and this was probably done before but I’d love to see your take on it if it’s no bother:

Reader with Simon who believes that their feelings for him aren’t reciprocated, that he and some other recruit are an item and so they keep their distance

Until a mission goes wrong and reader protects the recruit with their life, thinking that by sacrificing themselves they’d make Simon happy.

But all this time it was a misunderstanding, and they don’t find out until Simon storms their hospital room later on pissed off about their grave injuries

it is no bother! i am angst queen. and this is actually all of my favorite things to read wrapped in one very bloody tortilla. thank you sweetie pie

fools rush in (where angels fear to tread)

Your heart feels constrained, begging to be let out of its cage and into his arms. It pulses, as your head fills up with needless thoughts of pure doubt. Doubt and her and Simon, and the sniper rifle you’re holding on so tight to without a thought taken to the bruises forming on your rosy knuckles.

You hear a distant– Close? –shout but pay no attention to it, instead squinting one eye and shutting the other so tight blood rushes like a stream to your head. “Hey,” A gruff voice sounds, splitting in the air like a throwing knife to your ears. It’s nothing.

Nothing to you, at least, you know better than to assume any of his words belong to you. They’re hers, you’re sure of it. You suck in an estranged breath between your teeth, and aim right in between those stupid little beady-black doll eyes–

“Hey, are you even–?!” Ghost yells in your ear, and you flinch so hard you press the cold, steel trigger resting between your thumb and your pointer.

Fuck.

The man below the roof you’re perched on skitters away, screaming bloody murder to his mates. God, you’re not coming back from this, are you?

Simon gives you one final– definitely pissed off –look before dragging you and your gun away with him. Of course, not without bringing that dumb little new recruit along with him. He leans close to your ear, teeth grinding your fucking feelings down with seven thoughtless words spilling out of his mouth.

“Do better. What’s the matter with you today?”

Your heart pangs, an ache in your chest holding you strapped down so tight– yet your legs keep you moving, despite the grief popping like firecrackers in your chest.

While the matter he spat so rudely about, cuddled tight to his geared arm. Like she belonged to Simon. You had half a mind to split her head straight down the middle right then and there, but then it had dawned on you.

You were irrelevant.

In every instance, she’d taken your spot next to him– and he hadn’t done so much as tell her off. Ghost let her ogle over him, tracing gentle, kind (kinder than you could ever be) shapes on his hands when she’d gotten nervous.

She wasn’t built for the military, you clocked immediately as she’d been introduced– Soft, loving eyes greeting even yours with respect, unscarred, untainted skin. Unlike yours. Unlike yours, who’s had skin littered with disrespect and woe and torture from the moment you slipped into the world. She danced, daffodils lining the grass where she’d stood, entering the light like some sort of sacrificial-Disney princess.

And what were you to be, then?

An old crone utop your crowned palace of muck?

You didn’t fully know what had happened next– the recruit scrambling to protect herself from bullets, then yourself suddenly motivated to become a human meat-shield.

Of course this was how it ended. The old codger shot as a sacrifice for the beautiful lady, saved from ever leaving her ivory tower.

You wake up with a start.

Your arms are wrapped so tight you think you’re losing circulation, and once you realize no, you’re not in the fourth circle of hell, your eyes have wandered to the man at the end of your bed. Eyes closed peacefully and… snoring? Standing…?

His eyes shoot open, meeting yours. Veins practically bulge out of his built forearms when he sees that you’re awake, rushing to your bedside. You’re quick to defend yourself, worried that you’d caused a ruckus– a major supply and money loss from the doctor's efforts to save your life.

It was supposed to be a sacrifice. Something heroic, something unreachable.

Something you weren’t supposed to be here to see happen.

“I’m– I’m sorry– Simon, Ghost, L.T., you must be so pissed off with me, so done, I–” Your heart stops as his face draws together to a confused one. 

“What are you blabbering about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed perplexingly as his hand is pressed firmly to your IV-ridden forearm. You stop, eyes trailing back to his worried face. He’s not… angry, no… his eyes are puffy like he’d been pre-mourning your death, his other hand gripping the sterile bed’s paper-flat blankets like that’s the only thing he could hold on to for you not to run away hurting yourself again.

Well, it’s not in your eyes, but you doubt he wants to hold you in this moment. Not now, when he’s not even sure your spine won’t collapse if you do so much as sit up.

“Alive and breathing for two seconds and you have the bloody gall to beg for your lover’s mercy?” You say nothing, the heart rate monitor’s steady beeping shooting up to an alarming shriek. He glances over at the hunk of metal, sighing, before getting on his knees.

He lowers his head onto your blankets, breathing in the bleach-lemony dryer sheet scent before closing his weary, tired eyes. “I was training 'er."

Nothing, again. Your heart rate smooths out to a slow beep on the screen, your eyes burning holes into Simon’s mask. “No other reason I’d let a pitiful thing like ‘er follow me around.”

“Promise, love.”

divider by astralnymphh <3 thank you lots for reading my angels my babies. i now have an emotional attachment to you all. so