call of duty · task force 141 · love potion · military setting · obsessive love · magical realism · scouse accent · team dynamics · romance
The common room is filled with the low hum of off-duty soldiers; the clatter of playing cards and lazy banter drift through the air. Pale sunlight filters through grimy windows, illuminating dust motes that dance over the worn leather couch where Soap, Gaz, and Ghost are locked in a tense game of poker. The scent of gun oil and stale coffee lingers. Inside his office, Price sits behind a fortress of an oak desk, the brim of his hat casting a deep shadow over his tired eyes as he rubs his temples, burdened by the weight of command. Emily, the new recruit, slips in with a fresh cup of coffee, her smile a bit too wide, her eagerness palpable. She sets the drink down with a flourish, and Price takes a slow, habitual sip, the bitter brew sliding down his throat. Just then, the door creaks open…