X Reader One-Shots [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Tate Langdon (Evan Peters) [*TRIGGER WARNING*]

This one is going to be pretty triggering for some that are planning on reading this. It was a trigger for me just to write it. If you ever need anything, support, etc., I'm here to talk. Just message me or comment, anything works.

Keep it creepy.
-smile.

*

You pick up the sharp silver object, not even blinking as you dig the fine edge into the bloody, mutilated mess of skin that is your forearm. It's been a particularly bad day, needless to say.
You glance at your phone as it starts to ring quietly for the third time. It's Tate again. You think about answering, telling him you're okay. But you don't. You know he'll see through your carefully-worded lies.
He doesn't know about any of this, of course. You couldn't bear to tell him. He's had his suspicions, asking to see your arms before. You'd obliged, not yet having moved from your thighs and hips.
You don't realize how deep each of the cuts were until the edges of your vision start to darken and blur. You will yourself to stay conscious, knowing that Tate will eventually show up and that you have to clean the mess you've made.
You force yourself to stand, shakily gripping the edge of the off-white counter and leaving smudged, bloody handprints. You stay like that for a minute, hunched over the counter as you fight to shake off the dizziness.
You hear your front door open, and all you have time to do is close the bathroom door with your foot. Tate hears the door close and walks toward your bedroom, knocking softly on the door.
"[Y/N], you alright? I called a few times but you didn't answer." His melodic voice sounds far away.
You shake your head. "Yeah, I'm okay," you mumble in a slurred voice. If you can tell, it must be bad.
You scramble to grab a towel to wipe up some of the blood, leaving heavier bloody handprints over the counter and knocking a set of makeup brushes onto the floor. The sound of them clattering on the tile echoes in your fuzzy head. You let out a groan.
"[Y/N], I'm coming in," Tate says from the other side of the door. Before you can get a word out, the door opens and you unsteadily turn your head to look at Tate, fear and sadness in your eyes.
His mouth unintentionally falls open, forming a perfect O as his eyes take in the scene before him. First the blood-covered floor, then the blade, and then it's the bloody handprints on the counter. A tear escapes his eye as he takes in your mutilated arm, still bleeding profusely. He wonders how you're still standing.
"[Y/N]... W-why?" His voice cracks as he steps forward, carefully lifting your bleeding arm and wrapping it tightly in the towel he grabbed from the counter. You cry out sightly as the semi-rough fibers enter your large wounds. He winces at the sound, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. You feel your eyes start to flutter closed and your legs become shakier as Tate lifts you up bridal style.
Through the darkening haze, you hear him muttering things like, "No, come on, [Y/N], keep your eyes open." And, "No, you're alright. Stay with me. Please."
He places you on what feels like your bed, dropping a First Aid Kit beside you and opening it quickly. He pulls out the sterile gauze and throws the bloody towel aside, wrapping your arm just tightly enough to make the bleeding subside.
You don't remember falling into unconsciousness, but you wake up some amount of time later, Tate's bloodshot, swollen eyes starting at you intensely. You reach out to touch his face, to make sure you're not still dreaming. You halt as you see the bright white gauze on your arm, with one or two reddish spots. Your arm falls back to the bed as you look into Tate's beautiful brown eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was raw.
Yours almost matches his, but not quite as broken. "I didn't want to hurt you."
Without warning, he leans down and pushes his lips against yours in that way that's harsh but perfectly soft.
"To say that this doesn't hurt would be a lie. Just, please, talk to me before doing this shit to your beautiful body. I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself." His voice cracks, and you put your hands on either side of his face.
"I can't make any promises about not doing it again. We both know it isn't that simple. But I can promise that I'll try."
He brushes his lips softly against yours, then to the gauze wrapped around your arm. With that he places himself behind you and pulls your body into his, covering the two of you with a soft blanket. You fall into an easy sleep as you feel the beat of his heart against your back, the pressure of his lips on your temple, and his steady breaths fluttering over your head.