Cuts and Bruises (Arno x Reader)

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"I already told you, Y/N, I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

Arno said from behind you, and you turned around and glared at him from your place by the table. "What? It is! I've had worse and you know it." He said when you didn't say anything, and huffed in annoyance from his spot on the chair at your silence. You rolled your eyes and continued to prepare the medical supplies. Arno had went out and got himself in trouble, ending up in a fight with a few street thugs who wanted to rob him of his money. Being the skilled assassin he was, you wondered how he managed to get cut by a knife right on his cheek.

The both of you sat in Arno's room, you bustling around looking for medical supplies to treat his wound. You walked over to the cabinet by the door, and pulled out some clean bandages. Closing the door, you set the bandages on the table and walked over to Arno's closet beside his bed and moved the clothes that hung aside to reveal Arno's stash of liquor. You paused, smirking a bit in triumph, and heard Arno get up from his spot on the chair. "Hey!" He said, and was about to close the closet door before you placed an arm across his chest. "Don't worry, I'm not taking all your liquor. I just need a little bit to clean the wound." You told him, staring up into his gorgeous brown eyes. He relaxed a bit and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes before leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and moved his clothes back to normal so they would hide the alcohol, and closed the door. You took Arno by the elbow, your other hand still holding the whiskey bottle. "Come on, you." You said, and Arno whined loudly as you dragged him to the chair and made him plop down in it. He pouted like a child, and you chuckled at him before setting the bottle down on the table and grabbing the small bowl of water. A strip of cloth was already in the bowl, and you set the bowl on the small table beside Arno. Pulling up a stool, you sat down in front of him and grabbed the cloth and rung it free of water. Arno watched you while you worked, a small smile resting on his face upon seeing your motherly instincts.

Once the rag held little to no water, you brought the rag over to Arno's cheek and dabbed at the wound. He hissed a little, and you looked into his eyes. "It's just water, Arno. The whiskey will burn more than this." You told him, and his eyes widened and he gulped visibly. You smiled, and resumed your work of gently cleaning the scrape. All the while Arno just stared at you, and you didn't really pay attention to his loving gaze since you were so focused on your work. The small piece of cloth stained red from Arno's blood, and you removed it from his cheek and placed it in the bowl of water. You rang it out again, the clear water becoming a light pink color from the cloth.

Returning to Arno's cheek, your eyes scanned over his face while you worked. From his deep brown eyes to the scar on his other cheek, then to his full lips as they slightly leaned in a bit. He didn't lean very far thinking you wouldn't notice, but you certainly did as you removed the cloth once again from his cheek. Placing the cloth in the bowl, you got up and walked towards the door. "I'll be back, I'm gonna dump the dirty water." You told him, and turned around to see Arno already staring at you. He smiled and nodded, and you did the same and walked out of the room towards the bathroom.

You and Arno had this thing. It was weird, one day he would be flirty and cracking jokes with you, and the next he would be stoic and reserved. But the times he truly did flirt with you and give you compliments, you adored it and fell in love with him even more. There was just something about him, you didn't know what it really was. Maybe it was the way he was so passionate about the Creed, or the way he somehow made taking down an enemy look so graceful. Maybe it was the way he talked, speaking out about Paris and the state it was in as a Revolution raged on. Maybe it was his compassion, his confidence, his hunger to do better and train better than everyone else. Needless to say, you loved all of Arno, the good and the bad.

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