#asthmatic writes

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

Your fictions are amazing (English isn’t my first language sorry)

can u do a lando fanfiction like where he and her have a baby?

IM SO FREAKING SORRY I DIDN'T ANSWER THIS SOONER

the burnout is getting me IM SORRYY

Lazy Sundays

Pairing: Lando Norris x pregnant!reader

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, vomiting

Summary: Lazy Sundays with Lando are your favorite, but with a baby on the way they can get tricky, or just a little sweeter.

“Baby, the food’s ready” You called Lando from the kitchen for lunch.

Soft November Sundays were your favorite, The days when Lando didn't have any races or pr things programmed, it was just you and your man. 

Lando walked into the kitchen, shirtless, in only basketball shorts and SpongeBob socks. 

“I'm cooking dinner, ok babe?’ He said as he came behind you and wrapped his arms, holding your 7-month-old belly.

“Fine, but dont burn down my kitchen” You gigged and kissed him on the cheek as you plated the chicken alfredo pasta you made.

“It looks so good Y/n” Lando said as he sat down on the kitchen table, lit with small tea candles and small flowers from your garden.

You both sat down and enjoyed the meal, sharing conversations ranging from F1 politics to the color of the walls.

“Babe you ok? You barely ate anything” Lando put his hand on yours when he asked you this.  

“Im ok don’t worry Lan,” You said as you shoved food in your moth, showing how you were eating.

Five minutes after the forced eating you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

You felt the burning in your throat as you leaned over the toilet, ready for the disaster to come.

It felt like everything you've ever eaten came out of you in that moment. A few seconds later, running footsteps charge into the bathroom. 

Lando quickly kneels and pulls your hair back as a second round comes up.

You began to cry at the realization of how hard all this was. The baby in you was healthy, but it was taxing on your body. 

“Shhhhhh baby its ok, lemme get you all cleaned up mhm” Lando spoke softly in your ear as he lifted you up, wiped your mouth with a towel and began stripping you of your clothes.

“Lemme get you all cleaned up, ok baby”

You nodded, wiping away your tears as he started the bath.

He threw in some bubbles and bath salts, picked you up, and placed you in the bath.

He caressed your face as you smiled at him, placing a kiss on his hand and whispering thanks and soft “I love you”s. 

Lando left for a moment to get some water for you to drink. He came back, guided you to drink, and began washing your hair. 

He wet your hair, added shampoo, and combed it. He slowly massaged the shampoo and conditioner into your hair, braiding it up when he was done. 

He washed your shoulders, back, chest, and belly, leaving kisses wherever the washcloth went. 

After he rinsed you off with soft, warm water, he lifted you again and wrapped you in a fresh, fluffy towel. He then dressed you in soft pajamas and spread lavender-scented lotion all over and Brasilian stretch mark oil on your belly and chest. All while whispering sweet nothings in your ears over and over again.

He lifted you once more and took you to the bed where he wrapped you up in blankets and made you all comfy.

“You comfy mama?” He asked you while stacking pillows to rest your swollen feet. 

“Mhm,” You let out a soft moan as he rubbed your feet.

“I love you, Lan, so much thank you” You smiled 

“Of course baby, I love you so much” He kissed your cute little toes as he finished his massaged, then came over to cuddle. 

How you loved your free Sundays with Lando

[littlestarbigsky]

soda had rsv once when he was little,, and almost died.

darry doesn’t remember much of it since they were both still pretty young, but he was old enough to know that he needed to be scared. he couldn’t stand the thought of his baby brother in a too-big hospital room, not able to breathe on his own..

he ended up being fine, but after their parents die, darry is the biggest culprit of always cracking open soda and pony’s door and watching them breathing until he can hear two sets of lungs working.

pony doesn’t have asthma, but he can have some trouble after a track meet so he’ll sometimes use soda’s inhaler. every now and then soda gets wheezy when it gets cold and darry makes him use his nebulizer and he puts vapo rub on both of them.

[problem-prone]

You’ve heard of asthmatic Pony, you’ve heard of asthmatic Soda, now get ready for asthmatic Darry.

Who never knew he had asthma as a kid because his attacks were so infrequent and they resolved on their own so he thought they were normal. He could run and play football okay so it must not be a problem.

He’s at work one day during the driest month of the year in Tulsa. A big gust of wind blows through, picking up big clouds of dust and dirt. Most of the crew just cough a little and keep going about their work.

But Darry coughs. And coughs. And it feels like his chest is on fire and he can’t get air into his lungs and oh he’s panicking now.

His coworkers and his boss gather around him trying to figure out why the kid is starting to seemingly freak out out of nowhere.

His boss eventually notices Darry grabbing at his chest and makes a guess. He grabs his own inhaler from his pocket and presses it between Darry’s lips.

After a few puffs and a few minutes, the vice grip around his lungs starts to loosen and there’s no more panic clawing it’s way up his throat.

He convinces everyone that he’s okay, that they can go back to work and he’ll be up there with them soon.

The second time he has an attack that he can’t control himself is in front of the gang.

He has a rule about smoking in the house, the same rule his Mama had for all of her boys. Sometimes though, Dallas Winston loved to ignore this rule when Darry wasn’t home.

It was well after midnight on a weekend when Darry stumbled into the house after work. The moment he opened the door, he could smell the cigarettes and he forced himself not to cover his nose.

He felt the telltale elephant on his chest and his throat closing in on itself. He coughed and tried to force himself to breathe, with no success.

Hands placed themselves on his shoulders and a voice was speaking but everything was so muffled. He felt an inhaler be pressed between his lips and he inhaled, trying to get the medicine into his lungs.

Moments passed before Darry took in a sharp breath, oxygen going to brain so he could think clearly again.

Soda eventually convinced Darry that no, it isn’t normal to feel like there’s a lion in your chest trying to escape every time you breath in dust or you’re around the smoke of a cancer stick.

The gang all pitches in to get Darry his own inhaler that he can keep on him in case he needs it again, which he does at least once a month.

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

can't believe i'm. fuckin ill again.

[staring-at-a-blank-pagee]

explaining my lu bodyswap au as sentences that refused to leave my head while i was writing but also didn't fit into the story (some of these may not be in character at all fair warning lol):

1. legend took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the panic that had been growing ever since he woke up in this body. a child's body. he had spent too long suffering because people had viewed him as "only a child", he would not- dins fucking fire was that a ghost?!

2. "heyyy..." wind whined, grabbing warriors' shoulder. it was surprisingly easy, now that he was in a body that was all tall and grown up. "wars? why is your body bleeding?"

3. twilight had expected warriors to hate being in his body. after all, it was everything the so-called "pretty boy" seemed to scoff at. but wars seemed strangely, overwhelmingly, happy?? as for twilight himself, he was... out of his depth. he hated relying on magic, but this body he was stuck in buzzed with it. and it's not that sky's body wasn't strong, but it ran out of stamina after fifty feet of running, for goddess sake. no, that wouldn't do at all.

4. sky had so much energy. he didn't feel like sleeping or resting at all, but instead his legs itched to run and to climb up trees and over mountains. it was like he had taken a blast of..... wait, was that insensitive?

5. wild hurt everywhere. he didn't want to move at all, in fact. every part of his new body screamed in pain as he sat up with a grimace. "how the fuck do you live like this, vet?" legend gave a tired smile in response from across the camp. "practice, and lots of healing rings."

6. as soon as hyrule woke up, he knew something was wrong. his body was too big and heavy, and oh goddess he couldn't even see out of one eye. what happened??? as he began to panic, magic more powerful than any he had ever felt spilled out of him uncontrollably. he looked up to find that nothing else was moving - in fact, time of all sorts seemed to have stopped. "..... what the hell???"

7. time awoke and immediately knew that he was in a different body. that was not too uncommon of an occurrence for him, but what was deeply wrong was the way that the buzz of magic on one side of his face that persisted in every form no matter what had vanished. in fact, as he flexed his fingers, he realized with a spark of panic that none of the magic he should have was still present. as he searched, though, what he did find was a magic nestled within his own mind. "hey! you finally found us!" a voice from within cheered, and groaning, time had to fight the urge to just ignore it and go back to sleep.

8. when four opened his eyes, he realized that it was quiet. that was... strange, unsettlingly so. when he poked the new well of magic that sat inside of him seemingly in the place of the voices, the taste of copper rose in his throat and his hands took on an almost imperceptible glow. oh. well, fuck.

[porcelainbirdss]

FAWKKKK vape shop assistant phainon is way too funny but i personally think it suits him in a weird way maybe that’s bc i have a nicotine addiction but idk it speaks to me sings to me even…

need to cross vape streams w him his shitty blue razz and my peach ice… he’s the kinda guy to show u tricks as flirting then end up coughing his lungs out…

LMFAO GIRL THIS ASK MADE ME LAUGH WAY TOO HARD 😭😭😭😭 had to take a drag of my ice candies dawg nicotine addicts rejoice!!

bro phainon would defo try to show off his dumbass tricks and fail miserably. or propose a gunshot kiss but the vape is so fucking BURNT it makes you physically recoil. yallll he’s such a loser but i love him💔 my little vape addict

[jjsstars]

Venus au! — asthmatic jeep + Kira moodboard

|| sceo venus au! moodboard

|| tags: lead singer/guitarist!scott, drummer!stiles, bassist!kira

“You’re seriously just gonna add my name to the end of it?” Kira shakes her head in playful disbelief, they’re going over how Scott and Stiles want to introduce Kira as part of their band to their fans and this is what Stiles has come up with.

“Do you have a better idea?” He snarks with no real bite. Kira rolls her eyes and looks over to Scott, he’s too consumed texting that new friend of his to pay attention.

“Stop flirting with that streamer and pay attention!” Stiles’ foot reaches to hit Scott’s knee from his place on the small spiny stool Kira’s quickly learned is Stiles’ and only Stiles’.

“Asthmatic Jeep plus Kira, sounds good to me.” He looks up for a split second but quickly goes back to his phone. Kira and Stiles both groan in sync, Stiles reaching to pluck his own phone off the table Scott’s feet are rested on.

“I guess that settles it, asthmatic jeep plus Kira. Welcome to the band Kira.” Stiles shoots her one of his signature lopsided grins as Scott hums in agreement, Kira doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into.

[hadesdancehall]

happy wip monday bc i can't wait for wednesday

my mom brought miss rona home from a coworker after i posted the first ch of @lemon-wedges phantom au which brought everything to a halt where instead i was watching yt clips of cdrama palace intrigue. did numerous mini drafts on paper of something i thought i'd use but then decided to use later on (how did this grow from two to four planned chapters aaaaa) so now we're going in a completely new direction

also after a bit of back and forth with myself i made the Very Important Decision of having barok at a pub

[intcritus]

[darkcrowprincess]

The dragon prince au: where Damian had lived and he Sarai and Harrow became a royal throuple

He still has his breathing sickness/asthma but he takes potions and medicine to help manage it.

His official title is royal consort of the king and queen but Damian likes to make jokes about being the king and queens of Katolis royal bed warmer.

Damian takes up most of the weight of rasing Ezran and Callum because Harrow and Sarai are king and queen. Of course they're are going to be busy.

He doesn't mind because he does not want any royal duties. Just wants to keep writing his emo poetry.

His poetry is so good that he he recites them in song in a bard like fashion for all the kingdom to hear.

His unofficial royal title is the royal bard of Katolis.

He constantly writes romantic poetry about Harrow and Sarai. It makes them both blush.

Viren can't stand Damian and is jealous of him.

The feeling is mutual. Damian thinks he's creepy. Plus he is where Callum gets his sass and wit.

He has tons of dark humor about his sickness that his husband and wife can't stand but his kids find funny.

"Please don't call me royal consort I'm just prince Damian, or better yet just call me regular Damian. Just without the regular."

Damian has an office where he writes all his poetry and other types of writing of his. It's filled with tons of books and pages of his works and favorite quotes glued to the wall or hanging.

His fingers always have stains of ink from writing all the time.

He always has a quill in his hair.

He is where Callum gets his big green eyes. So when they both use their big puppy dog stare with them no one stands a chance.

Damian is gentle with Soren when he finds out he use to have the same sickness as him. But he is very suspicious of how Viren managed "cure it".

Damian also has a silly dance that he does for both Ezran and Callum's amusement.

Damian is alive but Sarai still dies in canon and god the angst! He was the one that was suppose to die first not her.

Damian has days where he is so sickly that he can't get out of bed. But his family always tries to make it better in their own small ways. Especially the boys. Ezran brings him jelly tarts. Callum draws for him.

Soren is so jealous that Callum and Ezran have two great dad's.

Harrow Sarai and Damian share a bedroom. Enough said.

General Amaya can easily pick Damian up, but she have to be gentle with him because of his breathing problems.

Just imagine the image of Damian holding a baby Ezran in his arms while he holds 6 year old Callum close as he watches both King Harrow and Queen Sarai(his husband and wife) ride of their mission together. And that being the last time Damian sees Sarai alive.

(Will write more for this in a future post. But I just love this idea so much)

[daisybarbara]

honestly my biggest fear is if all my imaginary people i made up as a child, to give me safety, goes against me. i know it's just my mind but. my mind is quite cruel to me.

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

Happy Birthday Baby

Warnings- none, bad baking ig, fluff

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!girlfriend!reader

Summary: happy accidents for Lando’s birthday present

A/n: inspired by the cupcakes I made today that turned out rlly delicious but looking rlly bad. Enjoy

You creeked the door open slowly so you don’t wake Lando. Your afternoon movie and nap session was perfect and Lando was still asleep.

You decided it would be perfect to suprise Lando with some homemade cupcakes for his birthday.

Had you made cupcakes before… no.

But you had made a cake! And that wasn’t a COMPLEAT disaster.

Everything tasted good it was just the decoration that was not your strength

You got the flour and sugar out of the cubard and began baking.

You made sure to hand mix everything as to not make noise and wake your boyfriend.

You put the cupcakes in the cute orange liners you had bought a while back and popped them in the oven.

Now for the frosting.

You could make frosting that wasn’t hard right?

You found the perfect recipe and started mixing.

Again determined to be as quiet as possible, you hand mixed all the ingredients. Which unfortunately, was not the best idea.

The powders sugar and cream only made the frosting runny. Event your attempts to make it more firm were becoming useless.

Did the frosting taste good? Yes it was absolutely divine.

Did it look like frosting that could be piped? Absolutely not.

You decided to try and put the frosting in the freezer for a while to see if that would make it more firm.

While it was in the freezer, you took out the perfectly baked cupcakes and set them out to cool.

While they cooled and the frosting froze, you decided it would be a cute touch to make little logos to put in the cupcakes.

So you found some fondant your friend left in your kitchen a while ago and some food coloring and went molding.

You were good at using clay and whatnot. Crafting was your best skill. Not baking tho, definitely not baking.

You made the little Ls and the little Ns perfect and identical. You placed them on small black discs you also cut perfectly.

You decided some cute McLaren Logos would be perfect for the last 3 cupcakes.

After making the perfect shade of Papaya orange, you almost had an aneurysm trying to make the Logo look like the McLaren one and not Nike.

After you made the 6 little decals, you found the cupcakes room temperature, and went to see if your prayers for the frosting worked.

They did not.

It was still incredibly runny and not very good looking. But hearing Lando come out of the room made you realize you had not time to try again.

You found a spoon, and carefully dripped the runny mess onto the cakes. You placed them on a nice plate and finally added the logos you made.

Lando came down just as you put the last one down.

“What’s all this babe?” He asked you, when he saw the sink with a pile of dishes yet to be washed.

“I made these…” you said in a low embarrassed voice.

These cupcakes looked so so bad.

Lando giggled when he saw the cupcakes.

“What?” You asked him, more weight in your voice.

“The icing… it doesn’t… it looks wrong are you sure that’s icing?”, he asked you

Embarrassed, you put your head in your hands and tried to make yourself smaller.

“I’m sorry I tried to make something for you but it got messed up like everything I try to make. I’m sorry”, you said, the words spilling out of you.

“Hey, hey, stop that”, he said as he came over and wrapped his arms around your crouched body.

“I love them they’re perfect”

You looked up from your hands, “stop lying ik they look bad”

“No, y/n I love them. The logos are perfect they’re so cute” he picked up a cupcake with his logo on it and took it off, carefully so your work wouldn’t be destroyed.

“Imma try it, k?” He said.

You nodded as he took a bite. A moan escaped his lips as he tasted your cupcake.

“Oh my gosh y/n this is actually so good”, he said coming closer again and kissing your forehead.

He put the cupcake to your mouth for you to try. After you took a bite you smiled, realizing that they truly were delicious.

“Best birthday present every baby”, he said, planting kisses on your face with the runny icing on his lips.

You smiled as you looked into his eyes, “happy birthday my love”

He kissed you again, on your lips this time and gave a playful smirk.

“A’right now who’s gonna clean this mess?” He asked.

[littlestarbigsky]

i took a poll like a week ago on which wip i should finish and this is what the collective decided :)

first of all, this is much longer than i thought it would be lol but also ngl i almost wrote this as chetcherrycola but fear not cherrycola is alive and well in this one🫡 (looking back she’s hardly in it at all lol but trust she is there‼️)

… soda has appendicitis :p

“where’s your brother?” darry asked ponyboy as he slumped down at the kitchen counter, pulling a piece of toast onto a plate from the platter in the middle of the counter and starting to butter it.

pony pointed to their room, “still in bed. think he’s getting sick, he was burning like a furnace all last night.”

one side of darry’s mouth pulled back and he hummed, “i’ll go check on him. i cut up some of the fruit, you should have some of it before you go.”

“fine,” pony rolled his eyes, taking the serving spoon and putting some of the strawberries onto his plate next to his toast.

“pepsi-cola, it’s almost 7, time to rise and shine!” darry called, wiping his hands on the dish towel thrown over his shoulder and pushing the bedroom door open with his hip.

the room felt stiflingly hot, whether or not that had to do with soda potentially being sick or with the temperature outside finally starting to warm up again, darry wasn’t sure. either way, soda had the covers pulled up over his head.

“soda, c’mon…” darry yanked the sheet back, and his heart dropped clean into his stomach.

soda was laying on his side, drenched in sweat and as pale as the sheet he was tangled up in. his eyes were squeezed shut from the pain and he was desperately clutching his stomach. darry could hear his breath hitching in his throat, his asthmatic lungs trying to compensate for the crying. he flinched as darry pulled the sheet back and looked up at him with the most desperate and terrified eyes darry had ever seen.

“soda…” darry dropped to his knees next to the bed and brushed some of the hair off of soda’s sweaty forehead. “baby, what’s the matter?”

“i don’t know,” soda gasped, and even that seemed like it took far too much effort for comfort. he let out a strangled sounding sob and curled in on himself even tighter.

“hey hey kiddo, look at me, please,” darry grabbed soda’s face and almost had to pull his hands back when he felt the fever. “jesus christmas, pepsi, you’re on fire.”

“please,” soda pleaded, and it broke darry’s heart clean in two. “i don’t know what’s happening, dar, please, it hurts…”

“i know, i know, it’s okay,” darry was already standing up to get his boots on and round up ponyboy to take soda to the hospital. “just hang on for a second, we’re gonna get you help.”

he sprinted from the room to his own, grabbing the first pair of shoes he could find and racing to get them on.

“pony!” he roared, and pony hurried into his room, still with the blanket over his shoulders but at least in his day clothes. “go get my keys and start the truck, we’re taking soda to the hospital.”

“what? what’s wrong with him? can we even afford a hospital?” pony asked, his words slurring slightly with sleepiness.

“ask me that once we get soda help, alright?” darry huffed, finishing tying his boots and sprinting past pony and into their room to get soda.

he grabbed a blanket to wrap soda up in and got to lifting him into his arms. it was no easy task, it seemed like moving soda even the littlest bit was excruciating, but after a few minutes and many muttered apologies, darry managed to maneuver him up and into his arms. he could feel soda shaking and sobbing as he sprinted to the truck.

ponyboy had the truck running and was in the passenger seat, waiting for darry as he laid soda across the front seat with his head in pony’s lap.

“darry, his fever-”

“i know! darry cried, putting the truck in gear, slamming his foot down, and effectively launching them down their street.

pony tried his best to hold soda still as darry took turns too fast and had to stop abruptly, but the vibrations of the truck combined with tulsa’s far from perfect roads made for lots of bumping. pony ran his fingers through sofa’s sweaty hair, holding him close and trying his best to keep him calm, but the tears didn’t stop, and darry could feel them in his own eyes, too.

“soda,” pony pleaded, his voice high and breaking. “soda can you try to take a deep breath? please, you’re gonna start wheezin, and then you won’t be able to tell anyone what’s wrong.”

darry could feel his throat going tight from trying not to cry, he could hear the tears in pony’s terrified voice and the wheeze in soda’s lungs and he just put his foot down to get there faster.

the second darry had pulled up outside of the emergency room, ponyboy sprinted in to tell someone what was happening as darry hopped out of the truck and tried to gently get soda back into his arms. it was harder now that he was in the truck as opposed to in his bed, but it seemed like soda was in so much pain that it really didn’t matter what darry did to try to keep him comfortable.

he sprinted through the door, meeting three nurses who were already wheeling a gurney towards the door. it was mayhem when darry set him down, one nurse immediately starting to tie a band around his arm so they could start an iv as soon as they could, one had a clipboard and was taking his vitals and shaking her head every time she wrote down a number, and the last one was shuffling around to get them moving in the right direction.

“honey, can you tell us what’s hurting you?” the nurse with the clipboard asked as they started to wheel him back through the big metal doors.

“my stomach!” soda wailed, and all three of them exchanged solemn looks.

“you’re the parent or guardian?” one of them asked darry.

he couldn’t answer at first, he was so dazed and confused that he could only sputter out, “he’s my brother.”

the nurse asked again, seeming to understand the jumble his head was in, “are you the guardian, honey?”

darry just nodded numbly, and followed them back through the maze of hallways and sterile smelling rooms until they stopped and wheeled him into a room. they gave him an iv and started the pain meds, but soda was so worked up and panicked that they had to start giving him oxygen.

darry sat in the corner next to soda’s head, brushing his hair back and trying to keep him calm and comfortable while the team worked on his little brother. he was distantly aware that somewhere in the fray, they had lost ponyboy, but darry had long since realized that pony dealt with things better when he was alone. and he was a smart kid; he would either stay in the waiting room or be resourceful enough to find their room. either way, darry didn’t need to worry about pony, not when soda was still sobbing as the nurses tried to get his pain under control while they ruled out all kinds of terrible conditions.

it wasn’t until an hour later when soda let out a truly horrible scream of pain, despite being pumped full of pain medicine, that the doctors and nurses seemed to come to any sort of conclusion.

the doctor pulled darry aside and said quickly, “soda most likely has appendicitis, and with how much pain he’s in, we think his appendix may have already ruptured. the best treatment option at the moment is to give him an emergency appendectomy.”

“do it,” darry barely let the doctor finish before the words were tumbling out of his mouth. “please, just… help him.”

“we’d like to take him now, we just need you to sign this as his guardian,” the doctor nodded, handing him a clipboard and a pen. darry quickly found the signature page and scribbled down his name. they started wheeling soda back to the operating room, and darry jogged to catch up to them.

“darry?” soda whimpered, and darry ran up next to him and grabbed his hand. “darry, what’s happening?”

darry felt something drop in his stomach, “it’s your appendix, baby, they need to take it out.”

“but that’s a surgery!” soda cried, his breath picking up. “we can’t afford that!”

“shh, don’t you dare worry about that, honey, i just want you to get better,” darry leaned down and pressed a kiss to soda’s forehead.

they made it into an operating room and started to get soda prepped. after checking with him one final time, they pushed the medicine to put him to sleep through his iv.

soda squeezed his eyes shut, “that feels funny…”

“you’re gonna be okay, baby, you’re gonna wake up and feel so much better,” darry whispered to soda, smoothing his hair back. “me and pony are gonna be right there when you wake up. i love you so much, sodapop, you know that, don’t you?”

soda nodded weakly, the anesthesia already starting to work, “love you, dar, and pony, too. i can’t feel anything… ‘s nice…”

“just sleep, baby, it’s okay now,” darry felt a tear slip down his cheek as soda closed his eyes.



“pony?” darry called into the near-empty waiting room as he pushed the doors open. it wasn’t more than five seconds before pony had catapulted himself into his arms. “hey, kiddo, it’s okay.”

“what happened? what’s wrong with soda?” pony cried, clinging to darry. “they said he’s in surgery! what’s going on?”

“honey, how did you know he was in surgery?” darry pushed pony back to hold him at arms length.

“i told him,” a voice behind them answered, and darry whipped around to see cherry standing in her hospital uniform, wringing her hands nervously. “i overheard the page.”

darry could hear the anxiety in her voice. he could see her red-rimmed eyes and shaking shoulders. cherry wasn’t just some soc from the west side, she was his girlfriend. she loved him. she was just as worried about soda as they were.

“c’mere,” darry held out an arm to her and she fell into him. “it’s gonna be okay.”

“what’s wrong with him? why’s he in surgery?” pony asked, still anxious and obviously scared, but a little less frantic.

“the doctor said it’s his appendix,” darry held both of them close as he tried to explain, doing his best to keep his voice even.

cherry gulped, “oh, god.”

“but he’s gonna be okay, right?” pony pulled back from the hug and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

darry squeezed cherry again before letting her go in an attempt to put off answering the question. he straightened up and took a deep breath before saying, “i… we don’t know yet. the doctors are confident and the procedure is straightforward, but if his appendix ruptured already, there could be infections… we just don’t know yet.”

pony bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, keeping his head down and not looking at either of them.

darry could feel the telltale lump rising in his throat and he realized that he was about to cry, too, the delayed panic and fear finally catching up with him.

“pony,” darry’s voice was hoarse and crackling. “do you wanna go back to his room? i can show you where it is…”

pony nodded quickly, accepting the arm darry threw over his shoulder.

darry turned around and met cherry’s bloodshot eyes, “you’re on the clock, aren’t you?”

“i’m done in forty-five minutes,” she shrugged. “i’ll meet you back there when he’s out.”

darry started to walk with pony, pushed the huge set of double doors open and fell into step with his brother, winding through the hallways of the hospital and finally turning back into the room. with the bed gone, the room seemed massive. it sure hadn’t felt that big with all the people crammed in it twenty minutes ago.

pony started to sink down onto the floor, darry helped keep him on his feet long enough to get them over to the vinyl covered couch in the corner of the room. pony curled up against darry, shaking and crying. he couldn’t even blame ponyboy for being so scared, because truthfully, soda was never the one who scared them whenever he was sick. pony had always been the one to need hospitals and doctors, but soda, if he ever got sick, was able to bounce back after a day or two in bed. aside from small asthma scares every now and again, darry couldn’t think of a time where pony would have ever seen soda sick at all.

he lost track of how long they were there, his baby brother clinging to him like a lifeline and more scared than he had been in a long time, but the sun had risen and was high in the sky by the time the doctor pushed the door open. pony’s head shot up to look at him and darry could feel his heart speeding up, pounding in his throat.

the doctor looked up from his clipboard, taking in the brothers for a moment before his face relaxed into a smile, “everything went perfectly, we have soda in recovery right now.”

pony fell into darry’s shoulder, his hand flying over his mouth.

darry hugged pony to him, still looking up at the doctor, “can we see him?”

the doctor nodded, “you can come with me.”

they hopped up from the couch, pony clutching darry’s arm so hard his fingers started to go numb, and weaved through the maze of hallways behind the doctor. when they found the room, soda was still asleep, his pajamas discarded in favor of a hospital gown. the cannulas were still in place to give him oxygen, but darry found a knot loosening in his chest listening to the monitors beeping, a steady cadence that reminded him that their brother was okay. if nothing else, his heart was still beating.

darry walked over slowly and sat down in the straight-backed chair next to him, grabbing soda’s hand and squeezing it softly, checking the pulse-ox monitor on his finger. pony walked around to the other side, sitting down next to soda on the bed.

“soda…” pony sniffled.

“shh,” darry hushed gently. “let him sleep, kiddo. he needs the rest to get better.”

he reached up and instinctually pressed the back of his hand to soda’s forehead. his fever had gone down, whatever medicine darry had signed off on was working. soda’s eyes began to flutter open. darry sat up quickly, perching on the very end of his chair.

he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking over, following the feeling of whoever was holding his hand, “hey dar…”

darry couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, “hi, baby. have a good sleep?”

“mmm,” he hummed, not really leaning one way or the other. “feels funny, my head’s all spinny.”

“yeah, they’ve got you pretty hopped up on pain meds, kiddo,” darry leaned forward and brushed soda’s hair out of his eyes.

soda slowly turned to look at ponyboy, “hey, honey.”

pony didn’t seem to be able to keep himself together, a few tears slipped down his cheeks as he pulled soda’s hand up to his face. soda opened up his fingers to hold pony’s cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing away the tears. he gestured next to him and scooted over on the bed, hissing slightly as he moved. pony looked worried for a second, but happily laid down next to soda, his head resting on his brother’s shoulder.

“careful, pepsi, don’t wanna tear those stitches… you feeling alright? comfortable?” darry asked quickly, the euphoria of soda being alright beginning to wear off.

“‘m tired, darry,” he was exhausted. darry could hear in his voice, even if his goofy smile was firmly back in place.

“you can sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up,” darry sighed as soda threw an arm around pony. “cherry might be in soon, too.”

“really?” soda smiled, his eyes already drooping. “she’s gonna be so mad at me… she probably worried herself sick…”

“you’ll be fine, kiddo, i think she’ll understand. just rest, you need it.”

darry smiled, squeezing soda’s hand and smiling at his two baby brothers, both of them already almost asleep.

[wendichester]

Hello again! I swear, I look forward to your fics everyday - I just can't get enough!!!

I had an idea and thought you would be the perfect writer if you're up for it!

Could you write a reader that has to use her inhaler after big fights? Usually she hides it, but either Sam or Dean sees her use it after a really rough fight/hunt. And I'd love to see whatever kind of relationship you think fits this! Wether it's teasing her, making sure she's okay, fluff, romance, etc. - I know you would write it well no matter what dynamic you choose!!

Anyways, even if you don't write this, I just want you to know that your fics are one of the highlights of my day among the chaos happening around me in the U.S. right now

⊹₊⟡⋆ breathe,

summary. you've been keeping the fact that you're asthmatic for some time now. til dean notices. he always does.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 598

notes. thank you so much for requesting and I'm happy to be part of your days and help them feel a little better. hit me up if you ever need to talk hun 🩷

The second the hunt is over, you disappear.

Dean notices.

He’s still catching his breath, hands braced on his knees, heart hammering from the fight. It was brutal—vamps, too many of them, all claws and fangs and blood-streaked grins. But you held your own. You always do.

So why the hell did you bolt the second the last body hit the floor?

“Hey, you seen—?” He turns to ask Sam, but his brother is busy wiping blood off his face, barely registering the question.

Dean’s eyes scan the abandoned barn, the moonlight pouring through broken slats in the roof. Then he sees movement—just outside, near the Impala.

You.

And you’re bent over, hands braced on the car, shoulders rising and falling too fast. His stomach drops.

Dean moves without thinking, crossing the space in seconds. He expects to see blood, a wound you didn’t mention, some kind of damage—

But then he hears it. The sharp, practiced inhale. The soft hiss of a familiar sound.

You freeze when you notice him. Your body goes stiff, fingers still wrapped around the inhaler, but it’s too late.

Dean stops short, eyes flicking between your face and the little plastic device in your hand. He processes it in real time—the way your chest is still tight, your breath still uneven, the way you’re looking at him like you just got caught stealing the damn moon.

He blinks. “You’re asthmatic?”

You exhale, slow and measured. “It’s not a big deal.”

Dean’s brows shoot up. “Uh, yeah, it kinda is.”

You shove the inhaler into your jacket pocket like that erases the fact that he just saw you use it. Like you can make it disappear. “I don’t like making a thing out of it.”

Dean scoffs. “A thing out of breathing?”

You roll your eyes. “I can breathe fine, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah? That why you were over here suckin’ on that thing like it was oxygen straight from Heaven?”

You glare at him, but it lacks heat. Mostly because you’re still a little winded.

Dean softens. Just a little.

“How long?” he asks.

You hesitate. “Since I was a kid.”

Dean nods, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t like the thought of you struggling with this alone. Doesn’t like that you’ve been keeping it a secret.

“You always hide it?”

Your arms cross over your chest. “I don’t need you guys hovering every time I get a little winded.”

Dean tilts his head. “Sweetheart, we just fought off a goddamn vampire nest. I’m winded. This ain’t ‘a little.’”

You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his gaze. “It’s under control.”

Dean watches you for a long beat. Then he reaches out, taps his knuckles lightly against your chin.

“Next time, don’t run off, yeah?”

You open your mouth to argue, but he keeps going.

“I ain’t gonna make a big deal outta it, alright? Just—” He huffs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Just let me know you’re okay.”

Something in his voice makes your chest tighten—but not in the bad way. In the way that makes you want to believe him.

You nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dean gives you a look, one that lingers, one that feels like an unspoken I mean it.

Then he smirks, nudging your shoulder. “You know, if you ever need mouth-to-mouth, I volunteer as tribute.”

You groan. “And there it is.”

Dean grins, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the car. “Come on, Wheezy, let’s go.”

You elbow him in the ribs, but he just laughs, holding you closer.

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[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[denwritesandcries]

Dating Tara having a scary dog HCs

Pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t expect your girlfriend to act like that around your dog, but it's still pretty funny though.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: cursing, fluff, tara being dramatic and a caos gremlin, author never had a dog, mentions of scream V.

Note: Still don't think I'm really good at hcs but I had fun writing these!

English is not my first language.

- Tara could admit that she didn’t know much about you when you first started to go out, which probably would have caused Sam to have a meltdown if she’d found out about it, but, well, making impulsive decisions was her specialty.

- One of the things Tara had come to learn about you — details, mere details — was that you had a dog, after hearing you mention it once or twice.

- Tara, who had never had a pet before, was immediately excited with the prospect of meeting and having one in her life, wondering what it would be like.

- You hadn’t shown her any pictures, and on your Instagram there were a surprising amount of different dogs for her to be sure which one was yours, so Tara tried to guess. Would it be a puppy, happy and gangly? Or even an older, relaxed and well-behaved one, a childhood dog maybe? Would make a good cuddle buddy.

(Whichever one it was, she hoped it to be a short-haired; her asthma and allergies would be very grateful.)

- What she hadn’t imagined, however, was to come across her girlfriend smiling and waving brightly, with a damn hound on a leash on what should have been a perfectly romantic and uneventful date.

“What is that?”

“Hi, baby!” you greet, oblivious to her incredulous and apprehensive tone, “That’s Cujo.”

“Cujo,” she echoed, hesitantly, “Like… the rabid, murderous dog from the movie?”

“No, not the movie, the book,” you corrected. “Don’t worry, Tar, she’s a sweetie.”

“Your Cerberus is a she?”

“It’s just a doberman, babe.”

Great.

- Tara’s definitely scared of your dog at first, but she won't admit it. She's faced crazy killers before, for God's sake! A little pet was nothing.

- You know she's scared from the start. It's honestly kind of funny how she tries to act all brave, especially since you know Cujo wouldn't hurt a fly if she could (and she could), so you do your best to make her relax.

- Trying to get her used to it at first by asking if she'd like to hold the leash on walks, even though she always refuses it, “If it decides to start running I might get dragged across town until I fall down some drain. Would you dare do that to your poor asthmatic girlfriend?”

- Trying to avoid situations where your dog is involved doesn't work for long, though, it lives with you, after all – duh, Tara, really? – and your house is the only place you two can have some privacy without Sam hovering like a hawk all the time, so she has to get over it, like, urgently.

She stops you at the door the first time she comes over:

“So, is there any more… unexpected pets I should know about?”

You shrug, “I have some sea monkeys too.”

- She’s completely dramatic about it at first, as she always is when things don’t go her way. But it’s endearing, and it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her anyway.

- So… Tara, who has staring contests with your dog every time she comes over for the night or to just hang out, because she can’t stop squinting suspiciously every time she gets too close to the furry form you idolize so much.

- Tara, who gets upset and sullen when you’re gonna cuddle and the dog is faster, taking up your entire lap, the place she should be.

“You can just lay or rest on her, baby, I swear she won't bite.”

“No freaking way! Here, just hold me closer.”

Well, she swears that your dog would have laughed at her if she could.

- Tara, who's sure your dog has something against her and chases her around for the pure pleasure of it, no matter how much you argue about projecting, dark eyes making her jump in fright whenever they're in the same room.

- Tara, who huffs and whines when you go to sleep and the dog follows you, sprawling at your feet in the bed like she's its owner.

“Oh man, even here?”

“Tar, she's sleeping. It's a dog, it's not planning something against you.”

“She's threatening me on purpose!”

“She probably knows that you dislike her, you know, it's pretty obvious.”

“Whatever, I'm not apologizing to a dog.”

- Tara, who actually finds it pretty comfortable sleeping next to the furball, who keeps the bed less lonely and stops the heat from escaping when you get up early to make breakfast.

- Tara, who warms up and attaches quickly afterward, even if she doesn't want to admit it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Awn, I see you guys are getting along. You're petting her now! That’s so great, honey!”

“I'm not! I'm just checking to make sure she didn't bring any dirt from the park earlier.”

- Tara, who turns into an absolute menace once she and your dog bond and you honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not, but it's chaotic anyway.

- Tara, who struts around, holding on to the leash to save her life and still managing to look completely smug like a damn small gangster, laughing at those who stray from their path or get scared by the sudden barking.

“Ha, look at them! Scared of such a little pup, losers.”

“If she ever gets up she'd be literally bigger than you, Tar,” you sigh, ��And you acted just like them too.”

“Liar! All lies!”

- Tara, who spends her money on thousands of clothes and accessories that she thinks would look good on the dog, even though your pet already has a lot. Most of them are silly costumes from movies she likes, and one day you come home to find your dog on the couch wearing a cheap Michael Myers costume and you can barely breathe from laughing when she comes running up to greet you by the door.

- You definitely notice your dog wearing a big colorful bow that conveniently matches your girlfriend’s shirt and teases her shamelessly. All you get is a ‘she looks like a princess, leave her be!’

- She calls the dog by cute pet names and talks in a baby voice – which she denies to death – when she thinks no one is listening. Sometimes you even get confused about who the ‘hi baby!’ is for when she walks through the room.

- You're a little jealous when she prefers to snuggle with your dog instead of you, but you end up finding it so adorable that the problem is solved by cuddling them both together and that way everyone’s happy and content.

- Sam almost has a heart attack the first time she sees Tara with the dog, as do Chad and Ethan; Mindy’s a little hesitant and Anika’s the only one genuinely excited and happy about everything, wanting to pet it as soon as she sees her lying on the carpet.

- With that, Tara also defends your dog from anyone who dares to open their mouth and say something bad about her, whether they're your friends or the Karens you meet when you're out together (you have to stop her from throwing hands with them occasionally).

- Teaches the dog to purposely bark to scare Ethan every time he says something stupid and inappropriate and you're left wondering when the hell she had time to do that without you knowing, completely ignoring your claims of 'being a bad influence.'

- Protects the dog from absolutely any of your scolding, no matter what the reason, dramatically covering its ears and looking personally offended by your complaints. You can never stay mad for long with the sight of your girlfriend trying to cover up a dog who's clearly more intimidating than her and literal puppy eyes staring at you with intensity, letting go even if your couch or plants have been destroyed.

- You end up with a happy little family before you finish college without even realizing it, which ends up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

- Tara's favorite part of all of this is the slow and warm mornings when you two don't have to be anywhere and can sleep in, feeling your arm around her waist and your dog curled up between you – under the covers too because it got cold during the night – when she can sigh contentedly and enjoy what you have without any more fears about the future.

“You know, remembering how scared you were of Cujo in the beginning, I never would have expected it to end up like this.”

“That name still doesn't fit,” she says stubbornly, “And I’ve never been scared of our dog, I just wasn’t a pet person.”

“Our dog?”

“Oh, shut it.”

She would never admit it anyway.

- Tara could admit, though, that you were right: your dog really is a sweetie.