NHL Imagines

Dylan Strome

"I FEEL LIKE SHIT!" you tried yelling, but your congestion and sore throat made it sound a little strange.

"I know you are, hon. I've got your soup right here." Your boyfriend Dylan said walking over to the couch where you were situated with a thousand blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals.

"I hate soup so much." You said groaning with an annoyed expression across your face.

"But eating fruity pebbles the rest of the day is not going to help you. We want you to get better, babe." He told you calmly, handing you the bowl and kissing your forehead.

He walked over to the TV and turned on your favorite channel, HGTV.

Once Dylan turned around and saw you, he couldn't help but stifle a laugh and smile. Stuffed animals surrounded you, and you were wearing all of Dylan's clothes, even his pajama pants. Since he was 6'3, his sweatshirt, flannel pants, and wool socks were really big on your 5'3 body. Your long, thick brown hair was thrown up in the sloppiest bun ever, and your glasses hung crooked on your defined, yet sick face.

Before you know it, your sneaky boyfriend had snapped a picture and ran to the other side of the room laughing.

"If I wasn't sick, I would totally kick your ass."

"You love me, Y/N." He said looking at you and making kissy lips, forming a heart with his hands like a little girl which made you laugh.

You had the best boyfriend.