Masks and Scars: A Ghost x FemReader Story

Scars

Ghost

I've always known Valkyrie was hiding something beneath the surface, always part of the team but never quite accepting she's one of us. I just never expected it to be this.

A purple scar streaks across her abdomen, surrounded by smaller scars that I can almost match to each weapon that caused them. I can't feel them beneath the gloves on my hand, but I can feel how she's trembling as I sweep my thumb across them.

I want to kill each person that put them there, listen to their screams as I make them pay for hurting her.

I know she's pushed to her limit when she pulls her top back down, covering up her skin and taking a step back from me. I've seen this woman in every mood imaginable, from angry to indifferent, happy and sad. I've never seen her look so vulnerable.

Soap often teases her for being like one of her computers, impossible to crack and causing problems for everyone who crosses her path. Maybe he's right. But to me, she's always been a puzzle I can't quite find the last few pieces too. Seeing her like this feels like an awful lot like one of those missing pieces has slotted into place.

"I'm already broken. Nothing medical can do will ever fix that," she says, turning away from me.

Does she not realise just how perfect she is? Her scars don't take away from the beauty she radiates inside and out. They don't take away from how much I've wanted her since the day I set eyes on her.

Relationships aren't exactly forbidden between operatives, but the idea they could separate us is all that's kept me from telling her how I feel. I'd rather have her close than miles away where she's not under our protection.

Valkyrie might be a fucking good soldier and the most intelligent woman I've ever met, but it won't stop my need to defend her.

I place my hand on the side of her face, turning her to face me. "You're not broken." Throwing caution to the wind, I slide my other hand under her shirt and lay it flat over her stomach. "You think these scars are something to be ashamed of?"

A tear rolls down her cheek, soaking into my glove. "I know they are," she says with finality, as if no one in the world can change her mind.

My jaw ticks beneath my mask, unable to comprehend why she doesn't see herself the way we all do. Her worth is in more than just the superficial things you see on the surface. She's strong, resilient, witty and a whole host of other qualities that make her unique. That makes her beautiful.

That's not to say she's also not beautiful on the outside. With eyes the colour of melted chocolate and curves in all the right places, she's captivating from the very first glance. I love how her hair changes colour to fit her mood and she's the first to let Soap colour in her tattoos when he's being a bit much and needs calming down. She sees the good in everyone but herself.

"You're wrong, Y/N." Using her name causes her to look straight at me. "Your scars don't define you."

Pot meet kettle, my subconscious screams at me. There's a reason I'm always masked after all.

It doesn't stop me from telling her, "They tell your story, they don't devalue who you are or what makes you, you."

Pushing away from me again, she finds herself backed against the wall behind her. Valkyrie leans her head back against it, closing her eyes as she tilts her head back, exposing the soft skin of her neck. I have to clench my teeth together to prevent me from caging her in and running my tongue over the soft skin.

"They're not even the worst ones," she mumbles. "I don't want people to see them. To see me. That's why I don't go to medical unless I have no other choice. Nothing is broken, just a few cuts and scrapes I can deal with myself."