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The lieutenant was a legend in the military. Mysterious, fascinating, and so… unapproachable. An intimidating mountain of a man. But, deep down, he’s a big softy. Everyone in the 141 knows it. He’s soft when he whispers his corny dad jokes over the comms, soft when he pats your shoulder for a job well done, and soft when he sits quietly after a mission, watching his team—his people—safe and happy. Everyone knows this, but he’s especially soft with you.
Ghost has always had a soft spot for you—the dough-brained sergeant who walks into walls and would probably eat mystery chemicals if dared. He wonders why he even worries sometimes, like now, as he watches you send someone straight to the infirmary.
———///———-
“Man, today was crazy, wasn’t it—oof.”
And you’ve walked into a telephone pole. Again. The third time this week, to be exact. Ghost doesn’t even flinch anymore. He just pats your shoulder with a gruff, “Watch where you’re going, love.” You flash that smile—the one that makes him question if all the pieces of your brain are intact. There’s a reason Soap calls you “dough brain.”
“Bonnie here was definitely dropped on the head as a lass,” Soap always jokes, though it’s in good fun (and maybe a bit true). You’re not the sharpest crayon in the box—likely the one eating the crayons—but that just makes Ghost adore you more, even if his anxiety skyrockets whenever you’re involved.
Like this morning.
The day had been going by just fine. just completely fine until this point. Ghost was certain this was gonna be a completely normal day. He should’ve known he jinxed himself. Soap and some other soldier were duking it out on the sparring mat as Gaz cheered him on like his personal cheerleader.
Ghost was just having a break, drinking some water with his mask, lifted up just above his lips, when you came out of nowhere and started talking about something that had absolutely nothing to do with anything. You were always doing that, jumping around from topic to topic without any sort of rhyme or reason. He couldn’t remember what you even said, considering he was a little distracted by the group of new recruits heading towards your direction after you had went over to the water fountain to fill up his water bottle for him. He didn’t even ask you to, you just did. Another thing he likes about you. But that’s gonna have to wait for now cause something is happening and he is starting to get anxious again.
You were a good soldier, and a good sergeant. You had that spunk, a sort of pizzazz a person would need to be in a position of leadership. But, you were too soft. To sweet and kind, that means people with not enough brains take that as you being weak or easily pushed around. Which explains why a group of rookies with too much bravery and not enough smarts are ganging up around you. Bullying is not an uncommon thing in the military, but these guys are fresh out the barrel green thumbs. This is not going to end well.
He thought about stepping in and lending you some scary dog privilege, but then again he doesn’t wanna seem like he’s being too overbearing. Well, he ran out of time to decide it seems.
“So you’re that sergeant dough brain everyone’s been talking about huh?” one of the recruits, barely old enough to shave, smirked.
“Dough brain? Oh yeah, Soap calls me that a lot! His nicknames are so weird!” You giggled, oblivious.
“Funny, huh…? How’s about you step onto the mat and show us rookies how it’s really done Sergeant”
“Forreal, homeboy?”
“What?” The rookie replied confused.
Oh boy… this is not going to unwell.
“Good luck, love.” Ghost muttered under his breath, resigned.
“Try not to die dough brain!” Soap cheered,
snickering with Gaz.
You turn back to give them a thumbs up and a smile. But it’s that same stupid no brain cell smile again, and it definitely does not make Ghost feel any less nervous. He seems to be always worried about you nowadays. Literally having to pull you away from walking directly into traffic on a few occasions. You can be so absent-minded and a genuinely amazes him every time. Might as well be blindfolded and walking around in the pitch dark at this point.
You and the rookie stepped into the ring. Everyone from 141 goes eerily silent as the rest of the recruits cheer on their friend. And then-
*Due to budget cuts, this fanfiction cannot include an epic fight scene with over-the-top choreography. We thank you for your understanding :)*
It was a massacre.
What were they expecting? You didn’t make it into the 141 just by being a cute face. Sure, they joked that you were the team mascot, but you were also a lethally trained weapon of war. That rookie left the mat with a sprained leg, and his buddies had to haul him off to the infirmary.
You tried to be gentle—really, you did. But controlling your strength wasn’t your strong suit. Not like the way Ghost did. How his hands could easily snap bones, but we’re still so gentle when they ruffled up your hair and said you did a good job. It always made your stomach burn and your legs feel weak.
Ever since you first met him, you decided that you liked him. He was fun! Whenever he would whisper those silly jokes over comms, and you would be the only one laughing. Whenever he would pat you on the shoulder for doing a good job and actually made you feel proud of yourself! Whenever he was just there, quiet but always listening, it made you feel safe. He really was the best.
After that kid got the hardest beating of his life, he wondered why he was ever worried in the first place. You really were an enigma to him. So oblivious and innocent most of the time, and yet when you really did focus in and get into work mode, you were like an unstoppable force of nature. it’s one thing to hear about it, it’s another to witness it with his own eyes.
“Yah should’ve shown more restraint”
“I know… sorry…”
He hated when you looked at him like that, with guilty puppy-dog eyes. He never thought a cute face could make him cave so easily.
“Lassie, LT’s right,” Soap chimed in, leaning on you like an armrest. “Yah didn’t have to be so mean.”
“That was a little harsh,” Gaz added awkwardly, “but you did your best.”
“I still won, though,” you pouted, making Ghost’s chest ache.
“That’s not—never mind… Yah did good.” And he ruffles your hair again. And you couldn’t help the way you lean into it despite the complaints about your hair. That familiar warm feeling spreads in your chest again…
It’s nice.