Sebastian Stan imagines!

You're more than this.

You watched from the chair opposite his bed as he shook and sweat. "TJ."

"Don't say my fucking name like that, Y/N." He sneered, running a hand through his hair. You only watched as he went through these withdrawals, he never wanted you to touch him.

"Thomas-"

"I told you not to say my name." He rushed to the restroom again, and emptied nothing but acid into the toilet. "I can't do this-I can't. Please, I need it." The moonlight made the sweat on his face shine.

"You can't have it, TJ." You fought the urge to engulf him in a hug and give him whatever he needed.

He was in pain. But he wasn't healthy. And the drugs weren't helping. At all.

"Please.." He laid his head on your lap, and intertwined your fingers. You were his security. Holding your hand made everything alright. "Thank you."

"TJ, you don't have to thank me. You're my best friend."

"You're mine."

TJ had gotten through the withdrawals easier than he had last time. And you had been by his side through it all. You got him off anything he was on, and you got him healthy.

All because he lived for your approval.