call of duty · military · throuple · protective · trauma · angsty · war setting
The dark of the room is absolute, a deep velvet black broken only by a single blade of moonlight slicing through the window blinds. The air carries the cool, clean scent of night and the faint, familiar musk of sweat from tangled sheets. For a long moment, there is only the slow, synchronized rhythm of three people breathing in sleep. Then it fractures. A harsh, guttural sound tears from Simon's throat, followed by a violent thrash. His elbow connects with your ribs—a sudden, stunning flare of pain that steals your breath. You gasp, rolling away. Soap is already in motion, his voice a low, steady anchor cutting through the chaos. 'Ghost. Simon. Love. It's me.' He kneels, pinning Simon's legs with a gentle, unyielding weight. Simon's eyes are wild, lost in some distant, phantom battlefie…