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dlwritings · 5 years

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All I Want | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 2,922 warnings - lots of crying and lots of drinking A/N - I wrote this for @petersshirts 2k writing challenge | prompt 4 - “without you, I’m absolutely nothing” | listen to All I Want by Kodaline | italics are flashbacks

summary - Tom broke your heart but, in ending things with him, you broke his. He’s having a hard time recovering, and you (truthfully) haven’t really moved on either. Is it time to start over?

(part 2)

Tom sat in his apartment, alone. He was always alone now. With his current Marvel projects wrapped up and the final reshoots of Chaos Walking and The Devil All the Time completed, he was left with a nearly empty schedule. Too much time on his hands. Too much time to miss her.

Funny, because time was what drew them apart. The irony was not lost on Tom.

The two of them met in a way most fans only dreamed of. (Y/N) had won a contest through The Brother’s Trust and got to go to the premiere of Spider-Man: Far From Home. What was originally supposed to be a fun night out playing celebrity turned into a night of making new friends.

With the $1000 that was given along with winning the contest, (Y/N) bought a metallic gold dress and some strappy gold heels. She had no idea if it was the kind of thing people wore on red carpets. She had looked up certain celebrities at different movie premieres and figured the outfit she picked would suffice. Nerves were eating her alive as she saw the limo (yes, limo) that would take her from her swanky hotel to the red carpet. The nerves only increased when she saw Tom Holland already in the car. He stepped out, introducing himself with a kind hug and polite kiss on the cheek. Her skin flushed red as she smiled back. He was professional at first, complimenting her dress, but in a polite way like his mother raised him with no flirtatious meaning behind it. It still left her flustered. What she wasn’t noticing was the way his eyes lingered on her frame as she stepped out of the car, his mouth suddenly dry at the sight of the smooth skin of her bare back. The slit of her dress rode up far enough to leave him wanting more. When he and his brothers came up with the idea for the contest, the last thing he expected was to be so enamoured by the winner.

She was funny. She seemed so relaxed around him, which was so refreshing. This wasn’t to say that (Y/N) wasn’t clearly a bit starstruck, but he couldn’t blame her. Not that he was egotistical, but more celebrities than he could count had left him slightly nervous. He’d been in her shoes before, to an extent. To hold a conversation with her that left them both laughing made his heart feel full. The premiere was great. She loved the movie, but he was more interested in watching her facial expressions than anything on screen. The glow on her face was mesmerizing. The VIP party was a blast. She meshed so well with Zendaya, Jacob, and the rest of the cast that it felt like she was always meant to be a part of their group. More than once, Zendaya wiggled her eyebrows at Tom, clearly noticing his infatuation with (YN). He didn’t even try to hide it, too busy focusing on how to make sure that that night was not going to be the last night he saw her.

The memories were all Tom could play in his head. He couldn’t focus on anything at hand. He burned everything he tried to cook, overfilled the drinks he was pouring in his glasses, cut himself shaving, and even put his shoes on the wrong feet. Nothing made sense without her.

Tom checked his phone, hoping deep in his chest that you had texted him. You hadn’t. He didn’t know why he expected you to. It had been three weeks of radio silence, and he was sure you weren’t going to break it now. He wanted to text you, but he seemed to have already inappropriately crossed that line.

For an entire week after you broke up with him, he texted you everyday. It was pathetic, but he was desperate. When his phone finally went off, he saw that you had sent him a text. Excitedly, hope swelling up in his chest, he opened it. Upon reading it, the hope was crushed by reality. Your text read, “I need you to stop contacting me. We are done and I can’t keep thinking about my decision every time I get a text from you. I know this hurts, and it hurts me too, but this is how it is now. Please stop texting me. I’ll block your number if you try and contact me again.”

After doing a fair share of crying, he never texted you again.

What Tom really wanted to do was drink, but Harrison had taken all the alcohol from Tom’s apartment.

A week after you texted him for the last time, Tom drank himself into unconsciousness. Harrison had been texting him all night and was worried when he wasn’t getting any responses. Harrison thought it was crazy how quickly Tom had fallen for you. The two of you had only dated for about six months, yet Harrison had never seen Tom so utterly heartbroken. He finally decided to check up on his friend, only to find him knocked out on the floor, a pile of vomit beside him. “Jesus Christ,” Harrison mumbled to himself, pulling his shirt collar over his nose. The apartment smelled like sweat, alcohol, and vomit. He had never seen Tom like this, and it freaked him out. “Mate,” he said, crouching down on the ground and shaking Tom. Tom didn’t move. Harrison checked his pulse, genuinely at a loss for what to do. When he found the pulse, he shook Tom again. “Mate, get up.” Still, he got no response. Finally, Harrison got a glass of ice water and splashed it on Tom’s face.

Tom woke up with a start, his head pounding and his body sweating profusely. “What the fuck,” Tom said, his voice hoarse. He felt woozy the minute he sat up and quickly laid back down again, clutching his stomach. He saw the vomit beside him and immediately felt sick again. He stood up as quickly as he could and just made it to the toilet before he threw up again. Harrison sighed and, being the good friend that he was, cleaned up the mess Tom had made on the carpet. He got water and advil and set it on the kitchen counter for when Tom finally made it out of the bathroom. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the shower start, but he was relieved. He wasn’t sure he could consol his best friend when he smelled like death.

While Tom was in the shower, Harrison got a paper bag and put all of Tom’s alcohol away. The last thing he needed was for his best friend to drink himself to death. Tom got out of the shower just as Harrison put the last bottle of alcohol away. “What the hell are you doing?” Tom asked, ruffling a hand through his damp hair.

“Saving you from yourself,” Harrison said.

“I’m fine,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re clearly not fine,” Harrison said, somewhat annoyed. “I walked in to find you knocked out next to your own puke. I’ve never seen you like that before. That’s not fine. I’m taking all this shit until you’re in a better state.”

Clearly, Tom was not in a better state. Instead, he numbed himself every night by watching brainless TV until he fell asleep. One day though, Family Guy just wasn’t enough. He decided to head out to a bar and drink himself away. Just because Harrison took away all his liquor doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to find some somewhere else.

Tom went to the nearest bar and ordered a whiskey coke. Then another. And another. And another. Sprinkled in with a few tequila shots here and there, he was sufficiently fucked.

You were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. You hadn’t been sleeping very well lately, truthfully missing Tom’s arms around you. It had been about two weeks since you sent him that terrible text message, and the guilt ate you up every time you looked at it. You couldn’t get yourself to delete the message and found yourself staring at it often, wishing you could erase the things you had said.

You groaned and grabbed your phone, unlocking it to go to your text message thread with Tom. The most recent text blinded you, but you scrolled past it, choosing to reminisce over the more positive messages the two of you had shared. They made your heart feel warm when you had been feeling so cold lately. You hadn’t done the right thing, you knew that. More than anything in the world, you wanted Tom back, but your heart wouldn’t be able to take him putting minimal effort into the relationship again.

You jumped when your phone started vibrating in your hands. Harrison? You looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly 1:00 in the morning. Confused and a little concerned, you answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, are you home right now?” Harrison said. His voice sounded strained.

“Um, yeah?” you said. “What’s going on?”

“Okay, I know I probably shouldn’t be calling you,” Harrison said, “but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Harrison,” you said slowly.

“He went to a bar (Y/N),” Harrison groaned. “He’s completely fucked. Normally I can handle this, but he won’t listen to me. He got kicked out of the bar, and I’m trying to take him home, but-” Harrison cut himself off with a sigh.

“What is it?” you pressed. You could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. It wasn’t often that Tom got so intoxicated that even Harrison couldn’t handle him. In fact, you couldn’t remember a time that had ever happened before.

“He wants you, (Y/N),” Harrison said. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to see him, but I don’t know what else to do.” You sighed and sat up in bed, kicking the sheets off of yourself and swinging your legs over the side of your bed.

“You can bring him over,” you said, putting your forehead in your hand.

“Are you sure?” Harrison asked. “I don’t want to put you in a weird position.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “Just bring him over.”

Harrison thanked you and hung up the phone, and you sighed again. You forced yourself to stay calm, already shaking at the thought of seeing Tom again. Tom was an honest drunk, and you weren’t sure what kind of conversation you were up for having that night.

It felt like virtually no time had gone by when Harrison rang the buzzer to your apartment. You quickly buzzed him in. It took him and Tom a while to get to the third floor where your apartment was, and you figured Tom was probably struggling to make it up the stairs. When Harrison finally opened your front door, your suspicions were confirmed. Harrison was practically supporting all of Tom’s body, as Tom was dragging his feet along. Harrison brought Tom over to the couch and all but threw him on it. Tom laid down immediately, curling himself into a ball.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Harrison asked again.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Promise. I’ll call you if I need help.” Harrison patted you on the back comfortingly before leaving you and Tom alone in the apartment. You went into your kitchen and got Tom a water bottle and grabbed a trash can in case he decided to throw up his guts. You sat beside Tom on the couch. “Tom?” you said hesitantly. “I need you to drink some water.”

“(Y/N)?” he croaked out. He opened his eyes, and you quickly noticed how bloodshot they were. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Harrison brought you to my apartment,” you told him. “Now sit up and drink some water for me, okay?” Tom sat up a little too quickly, and his face paled immediately. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him just in time for him to vomit into it. He kept heaving, and you rubbed his back soothingly. When he finally caught his breath, he put the trash back down and took the water bottle from you, taking delicate sips from it. After a few minutes of silence, you sighed. “What are you doing, Tom?” you whispered. Tom looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice broken. “I’m so lost without you.”

“Tom,” you sighed.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he whimpered. A few tears spilled from his eyes, and your heart broke. “(Y/N) I’m so fucking lost. Without you, I’m absolutely nothing.”

“That’s not true,” you said.

“Look at me!” he huffed. His voice came out in broken sobs. You couldn’t help but reach out and put your arms around him, pulling him close to your chest. He pressed his face against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp lightly. His whole body was shaking as he wrapped his arms around you torso, squeezing you tightly.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, continuing to brush your fingers through his hair. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

You leaned up against the arm of the couch and encouraged Tom to lay between your legs. He laid on his stomach, his cheek against your chest, and his arms wrapped around you. You ran your fingers through his hair lightly, and you heard him sniffing harshly, probably trying to catch his composure. “I just wanted to see your face again,” Tom suddenly whispered. Your hands halted for a moment, and Tom turned to look up at you. His tear stained cheeks put a lump in your throat. “I just wanted to see you one more time before it was over forever and you never spoke to me again. I thought I’d be okay if I could just, if I could just see you one more time. I thought I’d be able to move on, but now, now I’ve seen your face, and I’m still so fucking broken.” He swallowed thickly and a few stray tears left his eyes. With a shaky breath, he said, “Why won’t you love me?”

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths of your own. “I do love you, Tom,” you whispered. You opened your eyes again to find him staring up at you.

“Then why’d you leave me?” he choked out.

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s not that easy.”

“It is that easy,” he argued. “If we love each other, why aren’t we together? I’ll try and be better. I will. I, I’m done filming, so I’ll be free all the time. I won’t go clubbing as much. I’ll hold you ever night. We’ll go on lovely dates and weekends away and long trips to wherever you want. I’ll give you my whole heart and nothing less. I swear.”

“I just want you, Tommy,” you whispered. “I don’t need you to make all these promises to me. I just want you.”

“You have me,” he pressed. “All of me.” Tom sat up and put his hands on the sides of your head. “Babe, let me love you.” You closed your eyes as Tom brought his face closer to yours. His breath fanned across your lips before he slowly kissed you. His tongue made its way into your mouth, deepening the kiss and making you taste the whiskey on his breath. You kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair and your body inching closer to his. You were soon on his lap, straddling his thigh and feeling his hands on your waist.

When Tom started to push your shirt up your body, you pulled away from him. Tom breathed heavily, his eyes still closed. “We can’t,” you whispered. “You’re drunk.”

“I want this,” he muttered. He pressed his lips across your neck, biting your earlobe softly.

“If you still want this in the morning,” you breathed out, trying your best to focus and stay strong, “we can talk.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he almost whined.

“I’m doing this for you,” you said back. When you were both quiet for a moment, you ran your fingers through his hair making him look up at you. “You want to sleep here tonight?” you asked. He nodded, looking like he was fighting to keep his eyes open. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

You helped Tom walk to your room. He was still a little too intoxicated to walk without stumbling. As soon as he got to your room, he stripped down to his boxers and all but threw himself on the bed. You smiled softly and went into the bathroom, washing your face, brushing your teeth, and changing into your pajamas. You grabbed the trash can you kept in there and brought it back with you to the bedroom, wanting to keep it beside him in case he woke up feeling sick. When you got back to your bedroom, you heard Tom’s soft snores in the room. You let out a small sigh and crawled into bed. As if his body was magnetically connected to you, he immediately turned and wrapped his arms around you. You sighed again and ran your fingers through his hair. You knew what the morning would bring. The thought made you smile.

All I want is, and all I need is, to find somebody. I’ll find somebody, like you.

#petersshirts2kwc #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #marvel

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seungminty · 5 years

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Tipsy Nights and Heart Eyes // Changbin

prompt: You’re an emotional drunk and really really love your boyfriend (so fluffy it’s ridiculous + ot9!crack) 1.7k

bc I’m always an embarrassing drunk and our boys are the sweetest ever

-mads<3

“So that’s why I believe that the BBC should continue to be licence-free instead of switching to the state for its income.” I nodded along with my colleague, hoping my face didn’t show my internal screaming that had continued throughout the whole riveting 20-minute conversation. I smiled gratefully when he said he was going to go find an intern he wanted me to meet, and I only just managed to stop myself from bolting out the door.

Why the hell I agreed to go to this stupid office party I had no idea. Well, actually, it was probably because everyone at the office thought I was no fun. What they didn't know is that I am also defensive as hell, so damn right I stormed into this packed club 30 minutes late, wearing the sparkliest dress I could find and ready to party. However, the night didn't turn out to be as wild as I thought. A colleague had latched onto me early on, boring me half to death and barely letting me get a word in. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him return with a reluctant looking intern in tow. I looked from them to the group of colleagues doing shots in the corner, weighed up my options, and bolted towards the drunken huddle.

That’s how I ended up 20 minutes later, downing my 5th shot of some neon alcohol, singing an out-of-tune ABBA song and trying very hard not to fall off my bar-stool. My bemused eventually colleagues decided, much to my complaints, that they should probably call me a taxi. I managed to mumble out my boyfriend’s number, and only caught the beginning of the phone call before I was dragged away by our very funny, yet very drunk receptionist to dance. We danced and danced, cheered on by the rest of the club-goers, and for the first time in a long while, I felt relaxed and happy in front of my coworkers. I was so happy in fact, that I was about to attempt a cartwheel when I felt a soft hand clasp the wrists of my raised arms. I turned round to find the amused, yet concerned face of my boyfriend, who I was so happy to see that I immediately wrapped my arms around him, before peppering kisses all over his face. When he overcame the shock, he chuckled, and after grabbing my hands again, whispered in his familiar honey-like voice;

“I think it’s time to get you to bed love, before anyone gets seriously injured.”

I pouted but allowed him to pull me towards the door. As we passed them, I mumbled some sort of farewell to my colleagues, who for once, looked sad to see me leave and cheered me on as I clumsily left the club, but not before I gave them one last air punch as I exited the door. Changbin wrapped his arms securely around my waist and shoulders while I rested my head in the crook of his neck as he walked -more like dragged- me back to his car. I hardly had my seatbelt on when I felt all my giddy drunkness start to evaporate, leaving behind a wave of tiredness. Through my half-shut eyes, I saw Changbin look over at my suddenly crumpled state, letting out a chuckle before he began to reverse out of his parking space and head home.

‘You look super pretty, by the way.’

I smiled as I shut my eyes, the sounds of the car engine and Changbin’s soft humming lulling me to sleep. I was only half-awake when I felt my car door open and Changbin reach across me to unbuckle my seatbelt before helping me out the car. Managing to open my eyes, I quickly realised that no, this wasn't my apartment block, but the dorms. I opened my mouth to object but he seemed to read my mind, as always.

“No, I’m not leaving you at your apartment just because I have work tomorrow. My girlfriend can’t even walk straight, of course, I'm not going to just ditch her.”

My heart swelled at his words, and that was promptly followed by a very strong urge to throw up. Luckily we managed to reach the dorm without any incidents, except an encore of the ABBA songs from myself.

We passed a shocked looking Woojin as we tumbled into the living room, and I was promptly ushered to the sofa and told to sit down to wait for Changbin to find my pjs, and at this point, I was more sleepy than anything else, so I did so without much protest. My eyes were once again half-shut when I felt a soft blanket get tucked around me, and the sofa dip next to me. I opened my eyes and did slightly over-dramatic gasp as I saw Jeongin giving me a shy smile, looking slightly wary due to my drunken state.

“And what do you think of you’re doing this up late young man?” I attempted to use my best mom voice, trying my best to remain stern even though I was pretty sure I added in a few unnecessary words just there.

Jeongin just gave me a sheepish smile and walked away, probably feeling a bit awkward, leaving the newly arrived Hyunjin and Jisung laughing their asses off on the sofa opposite me. I frowned, before attempting to throw a cushion at them. Obviously, I failed miserably, only adding to their giggle fit. I was preparing my second pillow attack when I felt someone gently grab my arm and lower it. I looked up and saw a rather blurry Woojin. Once my eyes caught up I notice he had a cup of steaming tea in his hand, which he gently set down on the coffee table in front of me.

‘Here, for the headache you’re gonna have in about 4 hours.” He held out a couple advils, which I took with a big gulp of tea. I immediately screamed like a little bitch when I realised how damn hot the tea was, once again setting off the giggle twins in the corner, who I'm pretty sure were filming me now. Woojin looked concerned, rushing away to fetch some cold water as I whined, but I'm pretty sure I saw him biting back a laugh. A few minutes later I was curled up on the sofa, with a now thankfully lukewarm cup of tea, surrounded by fluffy blankets, and pretty much most of the boys who were probably waiting to see what dumb thing would come out my drunk mouth next.

They probably didn't expect me to burst into tears.

“Y-you’re all just so n-nice!!! I’m sorry for never really speaking to you, I r-really love you all so much and oh my god you’re just so nice! Jeongin you’re now my son so you ever need anything just ca-” My drunken sobs were cut short by Changbin’s arms wrapping around me and lifting me up princess style up off of the sofa while I sniffed pathetically. I caught a glimpse of the group of very confused and concerned boys behind us, and fortunately so did Changbin.

“Don't worry, shes just an emotional-ass drunk. I got it from here. Come on princess weirdo, I think it’s time for bed.”

He gently sat me down on the bed and began wiping off what was left of my makeup with a wet wipe as I sniffed and babbled on like a damn toddler.

“Your friends are the best.”

“I know.” He smiled gently, finishing with the wipe and helping me into my cosy pjs.

“Like the best best. Especially Woojin. I’m sorry I cried but he brought me TEA! I had no choice!” I exclaimed, getting slightly emotional again.

“Hey now, I thought I was the best best, should I be worried?” He pouted adorably at me, but I could see the hint of humour in his eyes.

“No no no. You’re the best best best. My cutie-pie. My little cutie pie honey bun.” This got a full-on laugh from Changbin, and I even detected a hint of rosiness on his cheeks, and I forgot that sober yn is never really one for pet names. He tried his best to hide his blush as he climbed into bed and lifted the covers and tucked us both in. I sighed contentedly as I lay down on his chest with his arms wrapped firmly around my torso, and decided to deem the night an overall success. Before I drifted off to sleep, I heard him whisper softly,

“Okay, Princess. I'm your honey bun.”

Bonus

“Morning sunshine.” I stirred as I heard Changbin mumble in my ear, before peppering my face with kisses. I smiled and began to open my eyes, noticing the cute little breakfast laid out on the bedside table, but then the headache hit.

“Morni- ohhhhhmygodmfhgf” I smashed my head back into the pillow and winced at the searing pain behind my eyes. I heard a tiny chuckle come from my boyfriend, causing me to reach my arm out to hit his shoulder for laughing at my pain.

“What did I do last night?” I asked once I could think straight again. I was greeted with silence, which I took as a bad sign.

“Oh no. It was bad, wasn't it?” I groaned, finally opening my eyes fully to see my Changbin biting back a smile.

“Well, you sang ABBAs entire discography, almost gave yourself a head injury, burnt your tongue, tried to attack Jisung and Hyunjin, cried for a bit, called me your cutie pie honey bun and then snored like an old man all night, but overall not your worst.”

I facepalmed, already cringing at the conversation I was bound to have with the rest of the boys.

Changbin laughed at my reaction, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him. He took me in his arms again and cuddled us both back up in his soft blankets.

“Hey don’t feel too bad, I heard you were super popular with Jisung’s snapchat followers.”

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cajunquandary · 7 years

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The Road to Heaven is in the Arms of a Winchester

Characters: Reader Insert, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Wordcount: 1500

Warnings: Death, angst

Summary: The reader gets hurt on a hunt. Will she get help in time?

A/N: @trexrambling requested, “Option A: He knew she was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. OR Option B: All the words had been said, and now there was only a deep, aching silence.” I hope this does the trick :)

The hunt was never supposed to end this way.

The world around you felt muted—you were barely aware of the light, warm trickle from your nostril, the cold wind coming in from the broken window, your various bruises and lacerations from the fight, or the splintered wood floor upon which you’d fallen to your knees.

You always got back up from being thrown, even when you hit your head so hard you saw stars in your eyes, or momentarily lost the ability to hear. No matter what, you always stood back up and didn’t fall back down.

Not this time.

Everything moved in slow motion, but all too fast at the same time. Shapes were blending, and colors lost their distinction.

And then you were no longer on your knees, but fell onto your left side, which you couldn’t feel at all. When had you laid down? You stared, unblinking, fixed, into the dead eyes of the vampire’s severed head just a few inches away. Good. You may have been thrown by the damn thing, but at least the boys finished him off.

Where were they?

Why couldn’t you turn your head to look for them?

You blinked for the first time in what seemed like an hour, but had truly only been seconds.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Dean called to you from far away, but his hands were around you, pulling you up to his chest. “Sam, what happened? Was she bit? Y/N, talk to me, baby! Look at me, please,” his voice cracked.

Then you were in the back of the impala, Dean still clutching you to his chest. Sam was behind the wheel. I’m fine Dean, but what’s going on? We got the vamp, right? Dean?

After a moment, you realized you couldn’t speak. All that came out were garbled, quiet attempts. “Drive faster, dammit!” Dean was yelling at Sam. What the hell was going on?

Harsh Florescent lights flashed by quickly. 1, 2, 3, 4… Your head pounded, and you squinted against the light. Your vision was extremely narrow, and you quickly realized that you no longer had vision in your right eye. Now this, this was familiar. You were suffering from another migraine. This you could handle. But… where were you? Why were you so tired? Still unable to move to look around, darkness closed in fast.

“She had a brain aneurysm. We were able to take care of the hemorrhaging in surgery—“

“Hey, plain terms doc- was it a stroke? Is she dying?”

“No, Mr. Smith. An artery in her head burst and caused bleeding and swelling. We took care of the bleeding. We don’t yet know the extensiveness of damage caused by the swelling, but when she wakes up, we should have a better idea.”

“And you said that her migraines played a role in this?”

“Well, yes, a migraine can be an indication of an aneurysm. Some people get aneurysms and nothing ever happens. Others… aren’t so lucky. Her motorcycle wreck probably triggered it, especially since she wasn’t wearing a helmet.”

“What are her chances here, doc?”

“Well, she is breathing on her own, and that is a great sign. There seems to be normal brain activity, and when the drugs from surgery wear off, she should wake up. I’d say her chances at a decent recovery, if not full, are on the better side. I am going to hold her in the ICU for three days to see how she does, even if she improves. Also, I am prescribing her an anticoagulant drug to control and prevent post-traumatic seizures after surgery. This will keep her blood slippery so it doesn’t clot again. Her other injuries are minor enough that she shouldn’t bleed from them, but we will watch her closely to make sure.”

You still couldn’t see anything, but the conversation slowly grounded you. A warm hand grasped yours, and breath grazed your ear gently. “Y/N… wake up, sweat heart. Sammy brought you flowers. Later he is going to sneak in some burgers for us. And look—I found your favorite movie.”

You heard Fried Green Tomatoes in the background, the part where Idgie is mourning Buddy Sr.’s death. There was a sniffle and a weight pressed into your shoulder, heavy but warm. Your hand twitched, and the weight lifted. “Hey—hey come on, open your eyes…”

They cracked open barely, and the light coming in from the window stung, making your groan. Your throat was sore and scratchy. The window drew shut, and you opened your eyes a little wider. It took a moment to adjust and remember how to move them, but when they looked onto Dean’s you smiled weakly.

“Hey, Winchester.”

Dean gently held your face, mindful of your wrapped incision and kissed you, a single tear rolling down his puffy face.

“No chick flick moments,” you teased.

He bowed his head and laughed, “Don’t quote me to me.”

Sam knocked on the door. “Hey, she awake?”

“Yes and she is doing just fine, thank you.” You retorted.

Dean left, begrudgingly complying with the one visitor at a time rule.

Sam did his best to hug you. “So, that vamp threw you pretty hard. Why didn’t you tell us how bad the migraines were getting? You almost died. Dean was beside himself, security had to place him in holding until we could visit you,” Sam whispered.

“Well, that last doc I went to said I was fine, to take some Advil. Guess he was wrong.”

“No kidding.”

“They seriously had to put him in holding? Please tell me you have a video of this.” You tried to laugh, but it sent searing pain to your head. You gasped, feeling extremely worn out already.

“Unfortunately, no. but maybe we can hack into their system later and see if they caught it on camera. Hey… you should rest. We’ll be here.” Sam smiled sympathetically, squeezed your hand, and left.

Shortly after, the doctor came in and explained everything to you. The next few days were a blur of fading in and out of sleep, Dean trying to sneak in pie and getting scolded by the nurses, Sam talking about his time at Stanford with the doctor, whose son was headed there in the fall for law as well, and lots of tests to see how you were progressing. It seemed like Dean was always doing something to make the nurses mad, like messing with the monitors, making balloons out of the gloves, and other nonsense. It was a good thing that the ladies seemed to have a sweet spot for him, as he only ever got away with a scolding when it could’ve gotten him banned from the hospital.

Before you knew it, Dean was carrying you back into the bunker and placing you in his bed. He held you firmly in his arms and you relished in the scent of home—leather, whiskey, laundry detergent, and old books. In the warmth, you swiftly drifted back to sleep, more comfortable than you’d been in a long time, despite your injuries, excited to see Cas in the morning to come.

You woke shortly, sitting up and stretching deliciously. Nothing hurt anymore. Castiel must’ve come in your slumber and fixed what he could. There was a shuffle at the doorway and you turned, grinning, to see the angel.

Castiel appeared more ragged than usual and stank of whiskey. “Uh, Cas, are you okay?”

Tears gathered in stormy blue eyes and he stumbled forth to embrace you, a single racking sob emanating from the holy being. “Cas, what’s wrong? Your feathers are tickling my nose.” You sniffled and pulled back slightly as the angel moved to kneel, holding your hand with his head laid against it.

“I tried to get there as fast as I could. I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

“What do you mean?” Unease tingled over your spine.

“You never made it out of that hospital. Your condition… lead to complications.”

“That’s not true. I was at the bunker, I made it.”

“Everyone has a road that takes them to heaven. Yours happened to be in the arms of a Winchester.”

The Winchesters stood by as somber flames engulfed your body on the pyre. All the words had been said, and now there was only deep, aching silence between the men. Castiel walked forward slowly, laying shaking hands on both of the brothers and pressing his weight into the gesture. The boys turned, expectant of his findings. Castiel merely nodded, eyes cast down, unable to shoulder the guilt he felt for not preventing this. The hunters turned back, embers glowing red-orange, fire dying with the daylight. They knew she was safe in heaven, and that’s the only thing that mattered.

Taglist:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56

Angst Tags:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

#chris writes #supernatural angst #reader insert #dean x reader #sam x reader #winchester x reader #castiel x reader #i've grown fond of killing the reader #dont mind me

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