Overwatch - Reaper x (Mostly) Female Reader Oneshots

Wrists Like Red Wine

Reaper x Depressed Female Reader. Trigger warning, there's self harm, mentions of suicide, and general sadness. Do not read if sensitive to this stuff.
Setting is the same as the last one, Talon and Overwatch joined, you have a room next to Reaper.
Disclaimer: I do not mean to act like depression is a good thing or anything. I wanted to shine some light onto a realistic battle with depression and how one might act when confronted about it.
If you're depressed/considering suicide, call a hotline or talk to someone. Much love to you.
Enjoy
(I am not responsible for any injuries caused by trying what you read here. Do not try it. Self harm is dangerous and addicting.)

     It started as just a little scratch with a pencil you were using. Just a small test. Then it became a couple more scratches. Then the scratches got too deep to fade quickly. Before you knew it, the scratches began to bleed. Then they started to scar, and then you started wearing long sleeves and gloves. You graduated to a knife instead of a pencil. It was addicting, to say the least. It felt like release. Nobody really suspected much. The gloves were fingerless and the long sleeves were blouses if it was hot and if you had to bandage up your arm, you blamed a cat. You were happy, for the most part. Yet of course, there were times when it was crushing. The weight on your shoulders was a heavy one.

Today, you were patching up a bleeding cut on your hand that ran up to your fingernails. The skin around them was chewed and bleeding for the winter, something you couldn't do in the summer. Admiring the blood for a second, your mind drifted off. There was a knock at the door you shared with your neighbor, Reaper. Not remembering the cut for once and neglecting grabbing your gloves, you opened your door and invited him in.

"Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if you want to spend some time together in here if you're not busy."

Reaper asked nonchalantly in his deep, growling voice.

"Oh, I'm not busy, I'd love to,"

You responded, not even thinking about the bleeding cut on your scarred hand. Nodding, Reaper joined you in sitting on your bed. While the two of you talked idly about new upcoming movies, you realized you weren't finished treating the cut. Your gloves were too far away to get and putting them on now would look suspicious. Your sleeves weren't long enough to hide the scarred arm, which was luckily covered by your other arm. You faltered mid-sentence and froze.  You could feel Reaper's questioning look through his mask, but you picked it up and continued smoothly, all while internally panicking. The conversation continued.

"Yeah, maybe we could rent it sometime and watch it together. I hear it's really good, but I bet it's not as good as the b-book."

You stuttered on the last word as your hand gave a sharp twinge of pain. It seemed as if the bending movement of pushing your hair out of your eyes had - oh. You quickly dropped your hand into your lap as you noticed Reaper eyeing it, but his strong hands gripped it first. Claws dug in just hard enough to scare you into submission. Once you slackened your wrist, his grip softened. He gently pulled your arm into his lap and rolled up the sleeve of your sweater. Gulping, you flinched and looked down momentarily before watching in horror at your stupidity as Reaper examined your arm. You felt sick. He said nothing as he gently drew a claw up the fresh cut, gently drew that cold metal up your whole arm, gently grazed the bitten, raw flesh of your fingertips, gently turned your arm over.
Uh oh.
You heard his breath catch in his throat as he caught sight of the ugly scars littering your wrist. His clawed and gloved thumb brushed over one from earlier. Fresh, deep, and an angry red color. Brushed over one spot a little too roughly, making you bite your lip with a small twitch of your wrist. Mumbling a startled apology, Reaper gently set down your arm and looked you in the eyes.

"Y/N, what did you do? What happened?"

His growl was slightly accusatory, but you could tell he cared. Embarrassed, you met the eyes of his mask.

"Reyes, it's nothing. It's just a couple cat scratches. I brought a few strays to the vet and it went a little wrong."

You lied seamlessly, hoping your gaze betrayed nothing. Reaper growled and gripped your shoulders.

"Don't lie to me,"

He snarled. It made you flinch, and he immediately softened his grip.

"I'm sorry. Just tell me why,"

Reaper demanded gently. You sighed, finally cornered.

"Gabe, it's really not much. It's just an old addiction. It helps me and I like it, don't worry,"

You answered with smile, relaxing into his grip. He sighed and only drew you into his strong chest, embracing you. Shocked, it took you a minute to relax again, but you did.

"Look, Y/N, I won't push you, but you can talk to me. If it's because of someone, I can kick their ass for you. Now let me see that cut,"

Reaper demanded, pulling back. Resigned and almost comfortable with him, you hesitantly showed him. One metal claw brushed the bleeding cut on you hand before he looked around. He spotted the medicine and bandages on your dresser, reached for them, and began his work.

"You've hopefully done this a lot, but I might be a little rougher with it. I'm going to bandage your whole arm. We'll use your cat excuse if anyone asks,"

Reaper's tone was firm but caring as he opened the small bottle, grabbing a nearby paper towel. Tensing up, you watched as he poured the medicine onto the cut.

"Damn it!"

You cursed under your breath. It stung like hell. Reaper was slightly rough in rubbing in the medicine, but his hands were skilled and careful. He cleaned the worst of the other cuts, talking to you in his low, dark growl, before he wrapped from your hand to your shoulder in gauze. You felt happy to know that he cared, but embarrassed and shy.

"Y/N?"

He caught you off guard when he finishes.

"Yes?"

You answered, tilting your head. Reaper pulled his mask askew slightly to reveal scarred lips, which he then kissed you with. You immediately kissed back, heart lighter in an instant. He gripped your (H/L) (H/C) hair as he deepened the kiss slightly, lingering there for a second before pulling away. You were breathless.

"(Nickname), I hate to see your wrists look like red wine and death. I love you."

He growled in a loving and protective way, enveloping you in a tight hug.

"I love you too, Reyes."