Scars. (Connor Kenway x Modern!Reader)

Trigger warning: Mentions of past self harming and the aftermath- scars.

"Y/n, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about since.. I got here." You hear Connor say, turning to look at him. "What is it?" You ask him, tilting your head a bit.

He bites on the inside of his lip, sitting down beside you. Connor wasn't in his Assassin robes- something you had gotten used to. You had convinced him that Templars weren't in this time, something you strongly hoped, so he traded his normal outfit for more modern things.

"Those... Things. Why are they there?" He asked, pointing at the scars on your arms. Your eyes widen and you then pull your sleeves down, hiding your forearms from Connor. You hoped he wouldn't notice those. You hoped no one would notice them, really.

"I- they-" You start, leaning back against the couch, covering your face with your hands. Your 16th year of life wasn't by any means your easiest. Numerous things had happened, and the only relief you were able to find was that of a blade biting into your skin numerous times- leaving you with the scars you had now. The worst part was you had suffered from a relapse just a few months before the Assassin sitting in front of you had appeared.

"Were you attacked by something? Was it a bear?" Connor asked, genuinely concerned on why you have the scars littering your arms. He was so... Clueless. Innocent. You didn't know how to explain things to him. "Connor, no. They're... Damn it... I did them." You finally admit, simple enough. "Did you have some sort of tough training?" He then questioned, watching you and then you smile a bit, shaking your head.

"You could almost say that." "Then how..?" "Being 16 years old was damn rough on me, Connor. I did this... Stupid stuff here at 16 years old, up until a few months ago, honestly... It's called self harm." ".. What exactly does that mean?"

Some things, Connor still didn't get. He was too pure to be stuck with you, so you had started to think.

"It's... It's a thing when someone hurts themselves. Purposely. With things like... Like a razor blade, a lighter. Hitting themselves to leave a bruise. Even pulling their hair out. Things like that. Inflicting pain on themselves because they think it's what they deserve. Or they think that that's the only way they can really, really feel something because mentally they've clocked out. They're numb, can't... Can't feel anything." You explain to Connor, your voice growing more quiet with each word spoken.

You look up at Connor, horror flashing on his face for a moment. "But... Why would you do this?" He then asks you, head tilted. You shrugged, starting to smile at Connor. "It just happened, to be honest. I thought it was working, to be honest, but... It made a lot of things worse." "Have you stopped?" He asked, voice serious.

"Yes. I have. For now." "Y/n, please. I want you to promise me there will be no more of these on your body." Connor says, voice still carrying the serious tone. You nod slightly, watching Connor as he steps in front of you, eyes meeting yours. "You promise?" "I promise, Connor. I really do." You say and he nods, sitting on the coffee table.

"I mean it." "I do too, Connor." You tell him, smiling again. His concern made your heart flutter, so to say. "Here. Hold your pinky out." You then say, getting a confused look from Connor. "It's called a pinky promise. Breaking a pinky promise is more or less a sin if you ask me. I make this one, and I'll never break it." You explain to him and he nods, finally holding his pinky out.

You smile, hooking yours with his.

"You will not break this promise?" He questions and you nod.

"I won't. Not now, not ever." You say and, for the first time, get a smile out of Connor.